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OUR COUNTRY. 



A NATIONAL BOOK. 



"Our Country!— 'tis a glorious land! 

With broad arms stretched from shore to shore, 

The proud Pacific chafes her strand, 

She hears the dark Atlantic roar." 



OUE COUNTRY, 



IN ITS RELATIONS TO THE PAST, PRESENT 
AND FUTURE. 



A NATIONAL BOOK, 

CONSISTING OF ORIGINAL ARTICLES IN PROSE AND VERSE 
CONTRIBUTED BY AMERICAN WRITERS. 



EDITED BY\/ 

MRS. LINCOLN PHELPS, 

I'NDER THE SANCTION OF THE STATE FAIR ASSOCIATION OF THE WOMEN OF 

MARYLAND, FOR THE BENEFIT OF THE U. S. CHRISTIAN AND 

SANITARY COMMISSIONS. 



BALTIMORE: 
PKINTED BY JOHN D. TOY. 



1864. 






Entered, according to the Act of Congress, in the year 1864, 

By Almira Lincoln Phelps, 

In the Clerk's Office, of the District Court of Maryland. 



"5^ 
^ 
^ 

^ 



DEDICATION. 



To the Mothers, Wives and Sisters of the Loyal 
States, whose Sons, Husbands, and Brothers are periling 
their lives in the cause of the Country, in the Armies 
and Navies of the United States, with the prayer that 
the objects of their affection may, in God's good time, be 
restored to them, crowned with triumph, and rewarded 
with the blessings of their grateful fellow-citizens, this 
volume is affectionately Dedicated by the women of 
Maryland, through their State Fair organization. 



PREFACE. 



This volume goes forth freighted with the loyal senti- 
ments of many good and gifted Authors, who have freely 
given their offerings for " Our Country;" a talisman 
which, while it touches the heart, inspires the genius. 
The Editor has not sought for assistance among men in 
ofl&ce, active politicians, or the leaders of cliques or 
parties. The opinions of such might have less weight 
than of those who regarding the great national questions 
from the quiet shades of retirement, or under circum- 
stances which leave the judgment unbiased and the 
principles uninfluenced, may be supposed better qualified 
to act as judges. True patriotism demands the re- 
nouncing of self-interest, of tastes, habits and opinions; 
it leads to a higher and purer atmosphere, where truth, 
which the mere politician often sees with disordered 
vision, appears in its proper lineaments and proportions. 
It has been the object of the Editor to consolidate 
in the "National Book," a body of thought and senti- 
ment which permeating the floating mass of crude or 



VIU PREFACE. 

erroneous political principles pervading society, might 
induce the wavering or the indifferent to renew their 
fidelity to their Country, and soften that asperity of 
feeling which would condemn every attempt to win back 
our erring brethren of the South to their allegiance — at 
the same time yielding nothing of the stern requisitions 
of law and government, such as the Fathers of the 
Country enjoined us to maintain. 

Every article from a living writer which appears in 
this volume has been presented by its Author, and, in 
almost every instance, prepared expressly for this Book. 
The Editor would return grateful thanks to the many 
distinguished writers and kind friends, who have aided 
and encouraged her in the arduous enterprise, which, by 
their help and God's blessing, is, after much anxiety 
brought to a successful termination in the finishing of 
this volume, now ready to go forth on its mission of love, 
duty and patriotism. 



EuTAw- Place, 

Baltimore, Md., March 2Stli, 1864. 



CONTENTS. 



Introduction, 



Restoration op the Union. 

Hon. Edicard Everett, Massaclmsetts. 13 

Song op the Southern Loyalists. 

J. H. Alexander, LL.D., Maryland, 44 

The Rebellion. 

Rt. Rev. T. M. ClarJc, Bishop of Rhode Island, 45 

Stars op My Country's Sky. 

Mrs. L. H. Sigourney, Connecticut, 52 

Our March to Gettysburg. 

Col. James Wallace, late of \st Reg. E. S. Vols., Maryland, 54 

The Flag. 

Rev. Thomas Hill, D.D., Pres. Harv. Un., Massachusetts, 70 

Consequences op the Discovery of America. 

Rev. John Lord, Connecticut, 72 

The American Ensign. 

Rev. A. Cleveland Coxe, D.D., New York, 87 

The Naval Academy in Secession Times. 

Allan D. Brown, U. S. N., Vermont, <J0 

National Hymn , Mrs. Emma Willard, New York, 99 

To What Purpose is this Waste? 

Rev. Prof. A. P. Peahody, D. D., Harv. Un., Massachusetts, 101 



X CONTENTS. 

PAGK. 

The Three Eras of the United States. 

'/. H. Alexander^ LL.D., Maryland^ 109 

An Episode op the Florida War. 

Maj. Brantz Mayer, U. S. A., Maryland, 110 

The Mississippi Mrs. Sarah Josepha Hale, Pennsylvania, 133 

The Women of Seventy-Six ....Mrs. E. F. Ellet, New York, 140 

Sonnet — Antietam. 

Rev. A Cleveland Coze, D.D., New York, 148 

Drum-Head Notes from Camp and Field. 

Col. Charles E. Phelps, 1th Reg. Vols., Maryland, 149 

The Blue Coat of the Soldier. 

Rt. Rev. George Burgess, Bishop of Maine, 18'2 

On the Name America Mrs. Emma Willard, New York, 186 

A Tale of East Tennessee. 

Mrs. Anna H. Dorsey, Washington, D. C, 192 

What Our Country Wants. 

Ex-Gov. E. Washburn, LL.D. Laio Prof. Harv. Un. Mass. 206 

A Voice .Mrs. Sophia May Eckley, Massachusetts, 212 

Baltimore Long Ago Hon. John P. Kennedy, Maryland, 214 

Flower and Leaf Interpreted. 

Lieut. E. Thornton Fisher. U9th Reg. Vols., New York, 243 

True Bond of Union. 

Charles Eliot Norton, Ed. N. Am. Rev., Massachusetts, 24t) 

"Thy Will Be Done." Mrs. Celia M. Burr, Ohio, 251 

Women of the Times.... i/r^, C. B. W. Flanders, New York, 253 

The Opportunity; or the Apotheosis of Pan. 

Rev. Thomas Hill, D.D. Pres. Harv. Un. Massachusetts, 261 

The Four Relics Thomas E. Van Behher, Esq. Maryland, 263 



CONTENTS. XI 

PAGB. 

A Battle Eve 3Irs. E.J. Fllicott, Maryland, 292 

Reminiscences of the Hancocks. 

Miss Martha A. Quincy, Massachusetts, 295 

The Spirit op Maryland in 1'794. 

An unpublished poem of the late Chancellor Kilty, Maryland, 316 

Field Lilies Mrs. C. A. Ilopkinson, Massachusetts, 319 

Needed Reform Mrs. E. F. Ellet, Neiv York, 326 

Aime de Mon Cceur Miss C. G. de Valin, Maryland, 329 

The Moral Strength of Our Country's Cause. 

Rev. F. D. Huntington, D D., MassacMisetts, 332 

The President's Thanksgiving Hymn. 

Rev. W. H. Muhlenberg, D.D , New York, 344 

Universal Peace Mrs. Emma Willard, New York, 347 

Sympathy Mrs. L. H. Sigourney, Connecticut, 357 

Historical Sketch — With Thoughts on the Present and 
Future Mrs. Lincoln Phelps, Maryland, 359 

APPENDIX. 

On the Christian Commission. 

Rev. J. N. McJilton, D.D., Maryland, 387 

On the Sanitary Commission, 

John Ordronaux, 31. D., Prof. Medical Jurisprudence, 

Columbia College, New York, 406 



INTRODUCTION 



THOUGH DEAD, THEY YET SPEAK. 

There was a time in the History of our Country when 
the question of Union or Disunion was fully discussed by 
the master minds of that period. It would seem as if 
the Almighty Kuler of Nations permitted discontent to 
rise up against the Government, in order to elicit the 
incontrovertible arguments which must ever stand out, 
against all attempts to sever the Union of the States. 

As time goes on, we are in danger of forgetting first 
principles. Let us then briefly retrace the events which 
attended the formation of our National Government, as 
introductory to some quotations from the great Advocates 
of the Constitution, Washington, Hamilton, Jay and 
Madison. 

In the second year after the Independence of America, 
delegates from the thirteen original States assembled at 
Philadelphia, agreed upon the original Articles of Con- 
federation, known as the "Old Constitution." After ten 
years had elapsed, there was a general call for a stronger 
National Government; and on the 17th of September, 



XIV INTRODUCTION. 

1787, after much deliberation, the present Constitution 
was adopted. It was agreed that the ratification of the 
Convention by nine States, should be sufficient for the 
establishment of the Constitution between the States so 
ratifying the same — all other States were to be treated as 
foreign powers by the United States. 

Here was an opportunity without war or bloodshed, 
for secession, which was then freely offered. "Either 
consent to this stronger government, which we find 
necessary to uphold our nation, or withdraw from us." 
After some argument upon ''State- Rights,'" every member 
of the old family entered the new, under the provisions 
of that Constitution, which in all its essential features, 
is the same as the loyal people of the country now con- 
tend for. 

"The Father of his Country," Virginia's Washington, 
in his address as President of the Convention, to the 
Governors of the different States, asking each to call a 
State Convention to deliberate on the adoption of the 
Constitution, in his plain and energetic language thus 
argues : 

"The friends of the Country have long seen and desired that 
the power of making war, peace, and treaties : that of levying 
money and regulating commerce; and the correspondent execu- 
tive and judicial authorities, should be fully and efifectuall}^ vested 
in the general government of the Union. ***** It is 
obviously impracticable in the Federal government of these States, 



INTRODUCTION. XV 

to secure all rights of independent sovereignty to each, and yet 
provide for the interest and safety of all. Individuals entering 
into society must give up a share of liberty to preserve the rest. 
The magnitude of the sacrifice must depend as well on situation 
and circumstance, as on the object to be obtained. It is at all 
times difficult to draw with precision the line between those rights 
which must be surrendered, and those which may be reserved ; 
and on the present occasion, this difficulty was increased by a 
difference among the several States as to their situation, extent, 
habits, and particular interests. 

"In all our deliberations on this subject, we kept steadily in 
our view that which appears to us the greatest interest of every 
true American, the Consolidation of our Union, in which is i?i- 
volved our prosperity, /elicit >/, safety, perhaps our national existence. 
This important consideration, seriously and deeply impressed on 
our minds, led each State in the Convention to be less rigid on 
points of inferior magnitude, than might have been otherwise 
expected; and thus the Constitution, which we now present, is 
the result of a spirit of amity, and of that mutual deference and 
concession which the peculiarity of our political situation rendered 
indispensable. That it will meet the full and entire approbation 
of every State, is not perhaps to be expected: but each will 
doubtless consider, that had her interests been alone consulted, 
the consequences might have been particularly disagreeable or 
injurious to others: that it is liable to as few exceptions as could 
reasonably have been expected, we hope and believe: that it may 
promote the lasting welfare of that country so dear to us all, and 
secure her freedom and happiness, is our most ardent wish." 

If the dead have cognizance of what is passing in this 
lower world, how must the "Father of his Country" 



XVI INTRODUCTION. 

regard the action of his own State, in this day of national 
calamity. Land of Washington, how hast thou degene- 
rated ! If "Virginia had remained true to his teachings, 
what horrors would she have spared her own people, and 
the nation at large ! North Carolina would have remained 
loyal — for she has had no especial cause to love her 
pretentious neighbor on the South, who never affected 
to conceal her contempt for the more honest but plain 
old North-State. Without Virginia, the Southern Con- 
federacy would have died away, as did the rebellion in 
South Carolina, in the days of Jackson. But, thank 
God, the flood waters of rebellion met with a check in 
Maryland. Like a rock on the ocean, she has breasted 
the shock, gaining strength as she resisted ! 

Voices from the dead ! Washington has spoken of the 
value and absolute necessity of the Union. Let us hear 
what other great statesmen of that period have to say that 
may strengthen our patriotism at this evil day, when 
sectional interests (the interests of slavery) have caused 
States to set aside our solemn national compact, and to 
destroy that Union on which Washington solemnly de- 
clared, "depended the safety and welfare of every indi- 
vidual in the whole country." 

Alexander Hamilton ! a statesman of clear intellect, 
endowed with almost superhuman prescience in respect to 
political events. He speaks — let us listen : 



INTRODUCTION. XVll 

"On the existence of the Union, depends the safety and welfare 
of the parts of which it is composed; the fate of an empire, in 
many respects, the most interesting in the world. Among the 
most formidable obstacle which the new Constitution will have to 
encounter, we may reckon the 'perverted ambition of men^ who will 
either hope to aggrandize themselves hy the confusions of their country^ 
or ivill flatter themselves with fairer prospects of elevation from the 
subdivision of the empire into several partial confederacies, than from 
its Union under one Government. * * * * * The vigor 
of Government is essential to the security of liberty." 

John Jay, the intimate friend of Washington, was 
associated with Hamilton and Madison in the attempt to 
influence the people of the country to adopt the new Con- 
stitution. In a publication called "The Federalist," 
these three great statesmen, jointly put forth the results 
of their deliberations. The North and the South through 
them met, and amicably united in the noble work of 
influencing the country at large to act for their own 
common interest. To Jay was assigned the ofl&ce of 
setting forth the dangers which would accrue to a dis- 
united country from "foreign force and influence." He 



•■It has until lately been a received and uncontradicted opinion, 
that the prosperity of the people of America depended on their con- 
tinuing firmly united, and the wishes, prayers, and efforts of our 
best and wisest citizens have been constantly directed to that 
object." 



XVlll INTRODUCTION. 

Mr. Jay then comments on the new and extraordinary 
opinions of some who advocate a division of the States, 
and calls on the people to examine into these dangerous 
political tenets. 

"It has often given me pleasure," he remarks, "to observe, 
that independent America was not composed of detached and dis- 
tant territories, but that one connected, fertile, wide-spreading 
country, was the portion of our Western sons of liberty. Provi- 
dence has, in a particular manner, blessed it with a variety of soils 
and productions, and watered it with innumerable streams, for 
the delight and accommodation of its inhabitants. A succession 
of navigable waters forms a kind of chain round its borders, as if 
to bind it together; while the most noble rivers in the world, 
running at convenient distances, present them with highways for 
the easy communication of friendly aids, and the mutual transpor- 
tation and exchange of their various commodities. 

" With equal pleasure I have as often taken notice, that Provi- 
dence has been pleased to give this one connected country to one 
united people ; a people descended from the same ancestors, speak- 
ing the same language, professing the same religion, attached to 
the same principles of government, very similar in their manners 
and customs, and, who, by their joint counsels, arms and efforts, 
fighting side by side throughout a long and bloody war, have 
nobly established their general liberty and independence. 

"This country and this people seem to have been made for each 
other, and it appears as if it was the design of Providence that 
an inheritance so proper and convenient for a band of brethren, 
united to each other by the strongest ties, should never be split 
into a number of unsocial, jealous, and alien sovereignties. 



INTRODUCTION. XIX 

'' They who promote the idea of substituting a number of dis- 
tinct confederacies in the room of the plan of the Convention, 
seem clearly to foresee that the rejection of it would put the con- 
tinuance of the Union in the utmost jeopardy: that certainly 
would be the case: and I sincerely wish that it may be as clearly 
foreseen by every good citizen, that whenever the dissolution of 
the Union arrives, America will have reason to exclaim, in the 
words of the Poet, 'Farewell! a long Farewell, to all my 
Greatness.'" * * * * * * 

Another voice from the Shades of the Past! James 
Madison was a son of Virginia, and one of whom the 
State, in her days of honest integrity, was justly proud. 
After triumphantly meeting the various objections to the 
Union from the great extent of country, the Virginian 
Statesman says : 

"I submit to you, my fellow citizens, these considerations, in 
full confidence that the good sense which has so often marked your 
decisions, will allow them their due weight and effect, and that 
you will never suiFer difficulties however formidable in appear- 
ance, or however fashionable the error on which they may be 
founded, to drive you into the gloomy and perilous scenes into 
which the advocates for disunion would conduct you. Hearken 
not to the unnatural voice, which tells you that the people of 
America, knit together as they are by so many chords of affection, 
can no longer live together as members of the same family; can 
no longer continue the mutual guardians of their mutual happi- 
ness; can no longer be fellow citizens of one, great, respectable 
and flourishing empire. * * * * No, my countrymen, shut 



XX INTRODUCTION. 

your ears against this unhallowed language. Shut your hearts 
against the poison which it conveys. The kindred blood which 
flows in the veins of Americam citizens^ the mingled blood which they 
have shed in defence, of their sacred rights^ consecrate their Union, 
and excite horror at the idea of their becoming aliens, rivals, enemies.^' 

Want of space has compelled us to abridge, (injuriously 
for the effect,) the testimony of these our venerated 
Statesmen and patriots; but enough is given to prove 
their horror and detestation of Secession, disunion, and 
defiance of that Constitution which the united wisdom 
of our Fathers transmitted to us to Love, Honor and 
Maintain. 



THE 



RESTORATION OF THE IJNION. 



Etery good citizen and good patriot looks forward to 
the earliest possible termination of the war, by an honor- 
able and durable peace, as a consummation devoutly to be 
wished for. It is, however, a conviction not less univer- 
sal, on the part of the loyal people of the country, that 
this object can only be attained by the complete prostra- 
tion of the military power of the rebellion, and the re- 
establishment of the authority of the General Government 
over the seceded States. Originally there were persons 
of various shades of political opinion in the free States, 
who, recoiling from the evils of civil war, were willing 
that the cotton-growing States should try the experiment 
of separation, of course on admissible conditions as to 
boundaries, the possession of the national fortresses, and 
the command of the great inlet into the interior of the 
continent. But no person, whose authority is of any 
considerable weight in the country, has expressed the 
2 



14 OUR COUNTRY. 

opinion, that any concession can now be honorably or 
safely made to the rebel leaders of those States, who 
avowedly plunged the country into this desolating war, 
not from any military necessity, but for the sake of draw- 
ing the Border States into the conspiracy. Looking for- 
ward to a future of indefinite extent, and contemplating 
the relation in which the two sections of the country 
would stand to each other, if the dominant oligarchy of 
the South should be permitted to carry their point and 
come out of the struggle triumphantly, it may be said to 
be the unanimous sentiment of loyal men, that the rebel- 
lion must be put down. A peace on any other basis 
would be but a precarious truce, and hold out a standing 
encouragement to the leaders of the revolt and their suc- 
cessors, to decide all future controversies by the sword. 
We must never forget, in this connection, the purely 
unprovoked and aggressive manner in which the war 
was commenced. The United States occupied a fort in 
Charleston harbor with a single company of soldiers; far 
too few even to man the imperfect armament of the place. 
There were no guns in Sumter by which the city could be 
reached; the President of the United States had distinctly 
stated, that he did not propose to re-inforce the garrison; 
and, notwithstanding the outrage of firing upon the pro- 
vision ships, sent with supplies of food, — acts themselves 
of overt treason and war, — no measure of retaliation or 



RESTORATION OF THE UXION. 15 

punishment was threatened or contemplated. Nay more, 
it was admitted by General, then Major, Anderson, in 
conference with the Confederate G-eneral that, unless sup- 
plied with provisions, (which the rebels had shown them- 
selves fully able to prevent,) he could not hold out more 
than forty-eight hours. It was under these circumstances, 
that General Beauregard commenced a cannonade from 
eleven batteries on a fortress built by the United States, 
on an island which had been ceded by South Carolina to 
the General Government, and which was lawfully occupied 
by an officer in their service, in obedience to his orders. 
This, of course, was an act of aggressive war, as flagrant 
and unprovoked, as it was, in the absence of all urgency 
and the monstrous disproportion of forces, mean and 
cruel. Had any of Major Anderson's men been killed, it 
would not have been a casualty of honorable war, but it 
would have been, both by the law of the land and the 
law of nations, a murder at the door of General Beaure- 
gard and his confederates in crime. If the United States, 
in addition to all the other outrages they had endured 
during that dismal winter of 1861, had tamely submitted 
to this last intolerable insult, they would have shown 
themselves utterly destitute of self-respect; and would not 
only have stood disgraced in the eyes of the nations, 
inviting encroachments from every foreign power, but 



IP) OUR COUNTRY. 

they would have taught the rebellious States, in what way 
all future controversies were to be settled. 

If these remarks required any illustration^ it might be 
found in the conduct of Great Britain in the case of the 
"Trent." That steam-packet, a private neutral vessel, 
was, in the exercise of the undoubted belligerent right of 
search, detained on the high seas by an American frigate, 
and two persons taken from her. If, in addition to this, 
half her ship's company had been transferred for safety to 
the San Jacinto, if a prize crew had been placed on board 
the "Trent," and she had then been sent to a port of the 
United States for adjudication, the whole proceeding 
would have been within the undisputed limits of belligerent 
right under the law of Nations. The disposition to be 
made of the vessel would have been a question for a Court 
of Admiralty, and the disposal of the persons captured in 
her a fair subject for discussion between the two govern- 
ments. On the ground that this formality was neglected, 
(which was done in part from regard to the convenience 
of the passengers on board the "Trent,") the detention of 
the vessel and the arrest of the rebel emissaries were re- 
garded by the British Government as a cause of war. 
Formidable military preparations were instantly set on 
foot for its declaration, unless satisfactory atonement 
should be made for "the affront." Such were the views 
entertained, all but, unanimously, by the Government 



RESTORATION OF THE UXIOX. 17 

and people of Great Britain, as to what constitutes a just 
cause of war. 

But contrast this provocation, under any view of the 
affair of the "Trent," with that given by the rebel leaders 
in the attack on Fort Sumter. The actual violence done 
to that vessel consisted in a detention of three hours, 
without a harsh word on the part of the boarding officer,* 
a gentleman as courteous and mild as he is firm and fear- 
less, a model of a Christian officer, holding a commission 
under a Government, recognized by every other civilized 
nation, and in the exercise of an indisputable belligerent 
right. Sumter was cannonaded for thirty-six hours with 
red hot cannon balls, by men, who held commissions from 
no acknowledged authority, and whose pretended Govern- 
ment had not yet even been recognized as belligerents by 
any power on earth. The American officer who detained 
the "Trent," acted in good faith, without instruction from 
his superiors, but in what he believed to be the discharge 
of his duty, and the exercise of his right under the law of 
nations, as expounded and enforced by the British Gov- 
ernment and British Tribunals. The officers who bom- 
barded Sumter, knew that the validity of the ordinance of 
secession, under which they were proceeding, was utterly 
denied by the Executive, the Legislative, and Judicial 
authorities of the United States, and that they were com- 

* Lieutenant, now Captain, Fairfax. 
9* 



18 OUR COUNTRY. 

niitting acts that would be regarded by the Government, 
which they had themselves sworn to support, not only as 
acts of war, but as acts of treason. Finally, instead of 
being an unpremeditated and a solitary affair like that of 
the "Trent," it was but one of a series of outrages on the 
forts, custom-houses, arsenals, mints, and other establish- 
ments and property of the United States, any one of which, 
if unatoued for, would have been regarded by every 
Government in Europe, as a justification of war. In this 
state of things, no English statesman or citizen, who re- 
garded the affair of the "Trent" as a justifying cause of 
hostilities, could entertain any different opinion of the 
attack on Sumter. 

To make this a little clearer, let us put a case, as nearly 
as may be parallel. Granting, for the sake of argu- 
ment, the right of South Carolina to secede, (which how- 
ever, is of course utterly denied;) although in virtue of 
that right, she might take herself out of the Union, she 
could not take with her the forts, nor the islands upon 
which they were built; for the islands had been formally 
ceded to the United States, and at their expense and by 
their authority, the forts had been constructed. It is, 
therefore, saying little, to say, that they belonged to the 
United States, as much as Gibraltar belongs to England. 
Now suppose that Spain, feeling as she does keenly that 
this encampment of a foreign power upon her soil is a 



RESTORATION OF THE UNION. 19 

standing reminder of her weakness and decline, — in fact a 
great territorial and political eyesore, — should first propose 
to buy Gibraltar of the British Government, and send 
Commissioners to London to negotiate the purchase, as 
South Carolina sent agents to Washington in 1860-61, to 
negotiate the purchase of Moultrie and Sumter. England^ 
would of course, reject the offer; she would as soon sell 
to Spain, the harbor of Plymouth, or the dock-yard at 
Woolwich. Spain disdains to prolong the negotiation; 
recalls her Commissioners in disgust; lays siege to Gibral- 
tar by land and sea; fires upon an unarmed supply-ship 
sent by England, to provision the fortress; and at length, 
in a time of profound peace, without a shadow of provo-r 
cation, and for no other reason than that she wants 
Gibraltar for her own purposes, bombards it, and, more 
successful than in 1782, reduces and captures it. How 
many hours would elapse, after the news reached London, 
before every available ship in the British navy would be 
ordered to the coast of Spain, and every available soldier 
in the British army would be embarked, to wash out this 
intolerable insult in blood? But this is the precise 
counterpart of the bombardment of Sumter, except that 
the outrage, instead of being confined to one Gibraltar, 
was followed up by the surprise and seizure of half a dozen 
other Gibraltars, belonging to the American Government, 



20 OUR COUNTRY. 

and scattered along our coasts and at the mouths of our 
rivers. 

So far then, is the war from being a war of aggression, 
on the part of the United States, as is pretended by the 
South and its sympathizers, it is a war forced upon us; 
which could not, without an entire sacrifice of manhood 
and national honor, have been avoided; and any other end 
of it than the utter prostration of the military power of 
the rebel leaders, instead of conducing to perfect har- 
mony and peace, would result either in the establishment 
of two rival and hostile powers engaged in eternal border 
war with each other, or in the breaking up of both sec- 
tions into groups of petty States, forever flying at each 
other's throats. We may, without being uncharitable, 
believe that the foreign writers and speakers who dwell, 
at one moment, on the overgrown magnitude and strength 
of this country as a menace and a danger to other 
powers; and at the next, denounce the injustice of the 
present war on the part of the United States, desire that 
it should end in one or the other of these two forms of 
national ruin. It is enough to say here, that the cause 
of humanity and peace is the last, which would be bene- 
fitted by either result. 

But it is objected, that eventual harmony and recon- 
ciliation cannot be produced by the continuance of the 
war, even if it is successfully prosecuted bj the United 



RESTORATION OF THE UNION. 21 

States; that all the victories gained by the Union arms, 
and all the disasters suifered by the Confederates, instead 
of tending toward the restoration of a good understand- 
ing, embitter and exasperate those who thus suffer by the 
operations of the war, and so tend to render a reconcilia- 
tion hopeless. This however, though a plausible, is a 
superficial view of the subject, without foundation in rea- 
son, history, or experience. There are various grounds on 
which the precisely opposite view can be maintained con- 
clusively. 

One great cause of the readiness of the Southern leaders 
to rush into the present war, was their entire misappre- 
hension of the character both of the South and of the 
North. The social system of the slave-holding States, 
the temper and habits engendered by the exercise from 
the cradle of irresponsible power, often over large nuiu- 
bers of fellow-men; the idleness and dissipation of planta- 
tion life; the practice of wearing concealed arms, and the 
exaggerated code of false honor, all united to produce a 
corrupting influence on the Southern character. It was 
largely tinctured with the conceit of a fancied superiority 
over the laborious, ingenious, and frugal North. For- 
getting the most notorious facts in their early history and 
ours, they imagined themselves to be cavaliers, and 
derided us as round-heads; not bearing in mind, even if 
that comparison were better founded in fact, that it was 



22 OUR COUXTRY. 

not, in the light of history, a very safe ground, on which 
to lay claim to a greater aptitude for statesmanship or 
arms. By the side of great courtesy in private life, (not 
without an occasional tinge of condescension on the part 
of individuals,) there was, almost from the foundation of 
the Government, an arrogant and masterful tone in the 
political intercourse of the South with the North, which, 
long indulged, led too many of the former to think them- 
selves at last, wiser, better, and braver than their North- 
ern brethren. There were, of course, wise and good men 
at the South, who did not share this delusion; but they 
themselves, for more than thirty years, have been, on 
account of their liberality and moderation, too often dis- 
credited and set aside. The genuine Southern aristoc- 
racy, that of morals, manners, and culture has, for a full 
generation, been to a considerable degree, ostracized and 
kept in private life by the gentry of the race-course, the 
jurists of the County Court, and the statesmen of the 
cross roads. 

This state of things had at length become an intolera- 
ble evil. Under the arrogance and self-conceit of the 
popular leaders of the South, the Government was degen- 
erating. That mutual respect of the different sections of 
the country, which is so essential to the harmony of a 
family of States, was rapidly disappearing, and dictation 
and menace on the one side, and acquiescence on the 



RESTORATION OF THE UNION. 23 

other side were passing into an angry and irritable an- 
tagonism. 

It is doubtful whether any milder discipline than war 
would have sufficed to take the conceit out of our Southern 
brethren; and even that will fail of the beneficial effect^ it 
would otherwise produce, if remitted before the military 
power of the rebels is utterly broken. They must be 
effectually taught once and forever, that we are in all re- 
spects their equals, and that a *'few disappointed aspirants 
to office" are not to be allowed now, or at any time here- 
after, to destroy the life of a great nation, because they 
cannot continue to monopolize the Government. 

The North, in her turn, required a lesson. She had 
allowed the busy round of her pleasant and gainful pur- 
suits; the varied agriculture of her small farms, owned by 
those who tilled them; her matchless manufactures and 
her commercial enterprise, moving with the mighty force 
of voluntary and amply compensated labor; the thousand 
forms of her material prosperity and refinement; her suc- 
cessful cultivation of science and the arts; her vast educa- 
tional system; the distribution and employment of her 
life-giving capital throughout the length and breadth of 
the land; — she had allowed these objects of absorbing 
interest, and the occupations connected with them, to 
engross her time and thoughts. The vulgar wranglings 
of the Capitol, and the tawdry splendors and tasteless 



24 OUR COUNTRY. 

dissipation of Washington life, were unattractive to her. 
There she allowed the South, who found it an agreeable 
change from the dreary solitude of her plantations, to 
bear a scarcely disputed sway, to play off the factions of 
the free States against each other, and thus to monopo- 
lize the control of the Government. With a little greater 
moderation in wielding this somewhat invidious power, it 
might have been submitted to for an indefinite period. 
But the intelligence of the free States was fatigued by 
the audacious theoretic absurdity of the doctrines of nul- 
lification and secession, (intended only when proposed, to 
frighten the North into continued compromise,) and its 
patience was exhausted by the abrogation of the Missouri 
line and the alternate frauds and outrages in Kansas. 
Accordingly a President was at length chosen without the 
aid of Southern votes. This was the unpardonable sin, 
the crimen lasce majestatis australis, which is now under- 
going expiation by the best blood of both sections of the 
country. They will come out of the struggle better 
acquainted with each other. The South, probably with a 
radical change in her social system, will have learned to 
respect the North; and the North to vindicate her pro- 
portionate share in the government of the country. 

The idea that a civil war, in consequence of the sup- 
posed embittering effects of its ravages, must necessarily 
terminate in the dismemberment of a country, is prepos- 



RESTORATION OF THE UNIOX. 25 

terous, and without any fouDclation in the teachings of 
history. If it were so, there never could be for any great 
length of time, an extensive Empire or a powerful Gov- 
ernment, inasmuch as a civil war, in some stage of its 
progress, will be found in the annals of every nation. 
Those who hold the opinion in question, are probably 
misled by the analogy of the American Revolution, which 
was in some sense a civil war, and which did end in 
separation. But the separation was induced by great 
physical and political causes which prevented the mother 
country from prolonging the contest; such as the vast 
distance and the intervening ocean, which threw diffi- 
culties almost insuperable in the way of military expe- 
ditions, and the superadded burden of war with France, 
Spain and Holland, under which England was compelled 
to succumb. In addition to this, the United States had 
manifestly outgrown the limits of Colonial Government as 
then understood and practised. 

When it is passionately declared that the South in con- 
sequence of the injuries inflicted upon her, by the opera- 
tions of the war, will never consent to a re-union with the 
North, it is forgotten, that in many respects the North has 
suffered at the hands of the South, as much as the South 
has suffered at the hands of the North. In any just view 
of the subject, the North has infinitely the most to forgive. 
It is true her pride has not been so deeply wounded by 
3 



26 OUR COUNTRY. 

the capture of her ports, the blockade of her coasts, and 
the occupation of her territory; but the loss which out- 
weighs all others, by the side of which no other form of 
suffering deserves a name, — the loss of her children whom 
she has sent to the wars, — is, to the full, as great as that 
of the South. The South indeed claims that it is far 
greater. To punish the free States for choosing a 
President without their votes, the South has levied a war, 
which has cost the North largely over a hundred thousand 
precious lives. Again there has been a large destruction 
of private property, at the seat of hostilities in the rebel 
States. This is a deplorable, but I fear, an unavoidable 
incident of war. Neither Governments nor Commanders 
are able wholly to prevent it. But on the other hand, 
the Union men in the Border States have suffered the 
same losses wherever the Confederate armies have pene- 
trated, while in the rebel States to be loyal to the Govern- 
ment of the Union has been to insure imprisonment and 
confiscation, and in many districts the most cruel personal 
outrage. Then, too, there are the ravages of the rebel 
corsairs. It is probable that the destruction of private 
property by these sea-rovers, is quite equal to that which 
has been caused in the Confederate States, by the direct 
operations of the war. In addition to this, it is calculated 
that the South was indebted to the North at the outbreak 
of the rebellion, from four to five hundred millions of 



RESTORATION OF THE UNION. 27 

dollars. In fact, the repudiation of this debt was one of 
the inducements for plunging into the contest. In conse- 
quence of the rebellion, the North has suffered this heavy- 
pecuniary loss, as it will long have to suffer the burden of 
debt, which the war has thrown upon the country. 

In these various ways, it is plain, as I have observed 
that the North has as much to forgive to the South, as the 
South has to forgive to the North. The evils they have 
inflicted upon us, as we think without a cause, are as great 
as those which we have inflicted upon them, as they think 
without a cause, and this relation of the two parties to 
each other, is, by the very constitution of our natures, a 
practical basis of reconciliation. The leaders of the 
rebellion indeed, are in no condition to take a sober view 
of the state of affairs. Originally spurred by ambition to 
the commission of the most aggravated crimes, of which 
men in civil society can be guilty; with the fearful re- 
sponsibility upon their consciences of all the sufferings 
and sorrows of the war, an avenging demon drives them 
■ forward. They cannot retrace their steps. The restora- 
tion of peace to their bleeding country would, probably, 
be at best to them, ignominious and life-long exile from 
its shores. But no such frenzy possesses the body of the 
people. It is not in human nature, that they should not 
feel the folly and the wickedness of the contest; and the 
unutterable madness of persevering in it. There is not 



28 OUR COUNTRY. 

the least reason to doubt, that the bold utterances of the 
"Raleigh Standard" express the real sentiments of the 
great majority of the Southern people. They will feel 
more and more that they are by no means the passive 
victims of Northern violence, as they are told by their 
profligate leaders. They know that they have been and 
are inflicting on us evils analogous to those which they 
suffer; and that the time has come, when as Christians it 
is their duty to throw off the yoke of the bold bad men 
who have brought these measureless calamities upon all 
parts of the country. The entire adult generation among 
them knows full well, that under the Government of the 
United States, in which the South at all times was clothed 
with power far beyond her proportionate share, she enjoyed 
a degree of prosperity never before vouchsafed to the 
children of men; while they know equally well, that 
the rebel government has been from its inauguration a 
burden, a scourge, and a curse. How can this comparison 
fail to produce its natural effect, not upon the minds of 
infuriated leaders, but upon the masses of a people en- 
dowed with average intelligence? Much as we have 
suffered by the war, there is no bitterness or exasperation 
on the part of the North; why should we suppose the 
angry passions are forever to rage at the South? 

There are many interesting facts connected with the 
progress of the war, which show that there is no bitter- 



RESTORATION OF THE UXIOX. 29 

ness on the part of the people, North or South, notwith- 
standing the pains taken by the rebel leaders, in their 
proclamations and addresses, and the rebel press in its 
editorial columns, to inflame the minds of the South. 
There are Union citizens of the highest social position on 
the Mississippi river, who have been reduced from afflu- 
ence to straitened circumstances, and in some instances to 
absolute poverty, by the desertion of their slaves, or their 
enlistment in the Union armies. Instead of being shaken 
in their loyalty, they know that these results are unavoid- 
ably incident to war carried on in regions burdened with 
slavery. They do not even allow the abuses which 
occasionally take place on the part of the authorities, civil 
and military, in the present necessarily confused and 
abnormal state of things, to swerve them from their 
attachment to the Union. We could give the names of 
noble and patriotic citizens, to whom this remark applies. 
They do not, because the war has prostrated their own 
fortunes, throw the blame of its existence on the Govern- 
ment of the United States. They know too well the 
insidious arts, by which the Southern mind was deluded 
and prepared for secession, and the ambitious motives, on 
the part of the leaders, for which the war has been levied, 
and they prefer exile and poverty in the free States to 
the iron sway of the selfish chiefs of the Confederacy. 
3* 



30 OUR COUNTRY. 

Take another most significant fact in the State of North 
Carolina. The entire seaboard of that State, (with the 
exception of one rigorously blockaded port), has been 
occupied by the Union forces. Her ancient capitol of 
Newbern, the home of the Gastons and Stanleys, has been 
for more than two years in our possession. All its promi- 
nent inhabitants were necessarily compelled by the rebel 
armies to fall back with them into the interior, and 
immense losses have consequently accrued upon the 
deserted estates alike of the loyal and disloyal. But in 
no one of the States in secession, has the old Union 
sentiment been more boldly uttered than in North Caro- 
lina. The press at Raleigh might be advantageously 
taken as a model, by many a journal in the loyal States. 
Men whose plantations near the coast have been desolated, 
and whose old family mansions are occupied as barracks 
by the Union armies, are, at this moment, denouncing the 
leaders of secession, and demanding the restoration of 
peace. The mountains on the western border of North 
Carolina are filled with Union men who have fled from the 
conscription, where from their fastnesses, they defy the 
rebel government. A similar state of things still further 
developed, exists in Arkansas, notwithstanding its sufibr- 
ings by the war. 

It was claimed by the rebels, as boldly as falsely, that 
Maryland is in heart with the Confederacy. Two in- 



RESTORATIOX OF THE UXION. 31 

vasionsby armies of one hundred thousand men have failed 
to receive the slightest aid from the masses of the people. 
Notwithstanding the attempts, throughout the South, to 
enlist the people, as in a common cause, in what is truly 
called "the slaveholders' war;" Maryland is marching with 
rapid strides toward emancipation. Missouri, Tennessee, 
and Louisiana are moving steadily toward the same goal; 
more earnestly since the emancipation proclamation than 
before. So little foundation is there for the idea, indus- 
triously propagated, that this measure would render the 
restoration of peace impossible. 

In the conduct of the war itself, there has been a remark- 
able absence of bitterness. With armies of such magni- 
tude on both sides, acts of violence are unavoidable. It 
is impossible to restrain the outrages of stragglers, and 
deserters, and the lawless banditti, who always hang upon 
the skirts of a camp or a moving column. Some atro- 
cious cruelties have been committed hj guerillas, for which 
the rebel government is justly responsible, in consequence 
of the countenance it insists upon extending to this un- 
principled description of force. But even Quantrell is 
not wholly inaccessible to the pleadings of humanity. He 
spared one cottage in Lawrence because it was "too pretty 
to be burned." In Calabria, French prisoners were 
roasted alive. In Spain, guerillas placed their captives 
between boards and sawed them asunder. In the Spanish 



32 OUR COUNTRY. 

American States, on every turn of their wretched politics, 
the leaders who fall into the hands of the enemy are 
taken out and shot through the back. In India, re- 
bellious Sepoys are blown from the cannon's mouth. No 
such enormities have marked the progress of our war. 

Southern prisoners of war are treated with the utmost 
humanity in the free States. I visited Camp Douglas 
near Chicago, at a time when eight thousand Confederate 
prisoners were confined there. They had an area of 
fifteen or twenty acres, where they were allowed to take 
such recreation as they thought best, and their food in 
quantity and quality was equal to that of the Union regi- 
ments which guarded them. The best of Western hams 
were emptied by the wagon load into their barracks. 
They were unquestionably faring better than before their 
capture. The same is the case at Johnson's Island on 
Lake Erie. I have lately conversed with an officer of 
rank just returned from that Island, and he assures me 
that ample provision is made for their health and comfort. 
Mr. Jefferson Davis, in his last annual message, endeavors 
to make a grievance of the confinement of Southern priso- 
ners on an Island so far to the North. He may not be 
aware, that St. Pauls, in Minnesota^ which was a favorite 
resort for invalids from the South, summer and winter, is 
three and one-half degrees further North than Johnson's 
Island. It might possibly also occur to him that the 



RESTORATION OF THE UNION. 33 

climate of Columbia, S. C. may be as trying in summer 
to the Northern prisoners confined there as Johnson's 
Island is to the Southern prisoners in winter. But the 
most curious fact in this connection is, that, owing to the 
greater provision against cold in the North, twice as 
many persons are reported in the census returns as freez- 
ing to death in the Southern, as in the Northern States. 
Of the prisoners confined at Johnson's Island, it is beyond 
question that fewer die there than would have died, sum- 
mer or winter, had they remained at home in the Gulf 
States. 

The accounts difier as to the treatment of Northern 
prisoners at the South, especially at Richmond. Many 
that have been exchanged return to the North wasted to 
shadows, and dropping into the grave. Mr. Foote in the 
Rebel Congress denounced the manner in which they 
were treated as cruel ; and one officer at least, employed 
to superintend the prisoners at Richmond, was discharged 
for "irregularity," meaning defrauding them of their 
pittance of food. The charge of ill-treatment is, how- 
ever, indignantly repelled by the Confederate Grovernment 
and press, and as a sufficient refutation of the charge, it 
is passionately maintained, that they are fed as well as 
the soldiers of the rebel army. But the same nominal 
ration may difier greatly in the quality of the article, the 
time and manner of distribution, and the means of prepa- 



^ 



34 OUR COUNTRY 



ration as food. Besides, if the allowance is not adequate 
for the healthful support of the prisoner, it is no excuse 
that their own soldiers fare no better. That argument 
would equally justify an enemy in slaughtering prisoners 
which he could no longer feed. The belligerent who 
cannot afford to give his prisoners a fair allowance of 
wholesome food, is bound by the law of nations, not less 
than by the dictates of common humanity, to release them 
on parole. 

There is one class of prisoners at the South, with respect 
to whom there are grave apprehensions of the most cruel 
and atrocious wrong. There is much reason to fear, that 
quarter has, in some instances at least, been refused to 
colored soldiers, and that, when captured, they have been 
mercilessly scourged, shot or hung. If this charge 
against the rebel government and rebel leaders is well 
founded, it is but another illustration how completely the 
moral sentiments maybe stifled in the hearts of men, and 
the feelings of humanity crushed, by "damned custom " 
If it were possible that we could, for any reason, derive 
satisfaction from the perpetration of inhuman acts by the 
enemy, we might remember, that nothing will so effectu- 
ally put the European sympathizers with rebellion to 
shame, and lead them to abandon the cause of the South, 
as this denial of the rights of war to colored prisoners. 

The conduct of the opposing forces in the field is, I am 



RESTORATION OF THE UNION. 35 

happy to say, by no means indicative of the bitterness 
and ferocity which usually characterize civil wars. Soldiers 
on picket duty, it is said, have generally given up the 
murderous practice of firing upon each other. When not 
expressly forbidden, they exchange good natured banter, 
newspapers, and small stores. The wounded in battle, as 
they lie side by side, forget that they are enemies, and 
remember only that they are brothers in suffering. Many 
a poor youth from the South has found in our hospitals 
the tender care of mother and sister, replaced, if such a 
thing were possible, by the ministering angels of charity 
that know no distinction of friend or foe. The records of 
the Sanitary and Christian Commissions afford the most 
touching illustrations of this remark, as far as concerns 
the wounded prisoners from the South, who have fallen 
into our hands. That similar kindness has been shown 
to our wounded at the South has been sometimes reported. 
I am not aware of any sufficient evidence that this is 
generally the case, though willing to believe and hope 
that it is so. 

That the experience of mankind everywhere proves the 
transient nature of the feuds engendered by civil war, will 
be admitted by every diligent student of history. On 
this subject, I venture to add a few paragraphs from the 
address delivered by me at the consecration of the 
Soldiers' Cemetery at Gettysburg. In that discourse, I 



36 OUR COUNTRY. 

tried to show that the gracious Providence which over- 
rules all things for the best, from seeming evil still educ- 
ing good, has so constituted our natures, that the violent 
excitement of the passions in one direction is generally 
followed by a reaction in an opposite direction, and the 
sooner for the violence. If it were not so — if anger pro- 
duced abiding auger, if hatred caused undying hatred, if 
injuries inflicted and retaliated of necessity led to new 
retaliations, with forever accumulating compound interest 
of revenge, — then the world, thousands of years ago, 
would have been turned into an earthly hell, and the 
nations of the earth would have been resolved into clans 
of furies and demons, each forever warring with his neigh- 
bor. But it is not so. All history teaches a different 
lesson. The wars of the Roses in England lasted an 
entire generation, from the battle of St. Albans, in 1455, 
to that of Bosworth Field, in 1485. Speaking of the 
former, Hume says: "This was the first blood spilt in 
that fatal quarrel, which was not finished in less than a 
course of thirty years; which was signalized by twelve 
pitched battles; which opened a scene of extraordinary 
fierceness and cruelty ; is computed to have cost the lives 
of eighty princes of the blood ; and almost entirely anni- 
hilated the ancient nobility of England. The strong 
attachments which, at that time, men of the same kindred 
bore to each other, and the vindictive spirit which was 



RESTORATION OF THE UNION. 37 

considered a point of honor, rendered the great families 
imphicable in their resentments, and widened every mo- 
ment the breach between the parties." Such was the 
state of things in Engkmd under which an entire genera- 
tion grew up; but when Henry VII., in whom the titles 
of the two houses were united, went up to London after 
the battle of Bosworth Field to mount the throne, he was 
everywhere received with joyous acclamations, "as one 
ordained and sent from Heaven to put an end to the dis- 
sensions" which had so long afflicted the country. 

The great rebellion in England of the seventeenth 
century, after long and angry premonitions, may be said 
to have begun with the calling of the Long Parliament, 
in 1640, and to have ended with the return of Charles II., 
in 1660, — twenty years of discord, conflict, and civil war; 
of confiscation, plunder, havoc; a proud hereditary peer- 
age trampled in the dust; a national church overturned , its 
clergy beggared, its most eminent prelate put to death; a 
military despotism established on the ruins of a monarchy 
which had subsisted seven hundred years, and the legiti- 
mate sovereign brought to the block; the great families 
which adhered to the king proscribed, impoverished, 
ruined; prisoners of war — a fate worse than confinement 
in Libby — sold to slavery in the West Indies; — in a word, 
everything that can imbitter and madden contending fac- 
tions. Such was the state of things for twenty years, and 
4 



d8 OUE COUXTRY. 

yet, by no gentle transition, but suddenly, and "when 
the restoration of affairs appeared most hopeless," the 
son of the beheaded sovereign was brought back to his 
father's blood-stained throne, with such "unexpressible and 
universal joy," as led the merry monarch to exclaim, "He 
doubted it had been his own fault he had been absent so 
long, for he saw nobody who did not protest he had ever 
wished for his return." "In this wonderful manner," says 
Clarendon, "and with this incredible expedition, did God 
put an end to a rebellion that had raged near twenty years, 
and had been carried on with all the horrid circumstances 
of murder, devastation, and parricide, that fire and sword, 
in the hands of the most wicked men in the world [it is a 
royalist that is speaking] could be instruments of, almost 
to the desolation of two kingdoms, and the exceeding 
defacing and deforming of the third. ... By these 
remarkable steps did the merciful hand of God, in this 
short space of time, not only bind up and heal all those 
wounds, but even made the scar as undiscernible as, in 
respect of the deepness, was possible, which was a glo- 
rious addition to the deliverance." 

In Germany, the wars of the Reformation and of 
Charles V. in the sixteenth century, the thirty years war 
in the seventeenth century, the seven years war in the 
eighteenth century, not to speak of other less celebrated 
contests, entailed upon that country all the miseries of in- 



RESTORATION OF THE UNION. 39 

testine strife for more than three centuries. At the close of 
the last named war, which was the shortest of all, and waged 
in the most civilized age, "An Officer," says Archenholz, 
'^rode through seven villages in Hesse, and found in them 
but one human being." More than three hundred prin- 
cipalities, comprehended in the empire, fermented with 
the fierce passions of proud and petty States; at the com- 
mencement of this period the castles of robber counts 
frowned upon every hill-top; a dreadful secret tribunal, 
whose seat no one knew, whose power none could escape, 
froze the hearts of men with terror throughout the land; 
religious hatred mingled its bitter poison in the seething 
caldron of provincial animosity; but of all these deadly 
enmities between the States of Germany, scarcely the 
memory remains. There is no country in the world in 
which the sentiment of national brotherhood is stronger. 
There are controversies in that country, at the present 
day, but they grow mainly out of the rivalry of the two 
leading powers. 

In Italy, on the breaking up of the Roman Empire, 
society might be said to be resolved into its original 
elements; — into hostile atoms, whose only movement was 
that of mutual repulsion. Euthless barbarians had de- 
stroyed the old organizations and covered the land with a 
merciless feudalism. As the new civilization grew up, 
under the wing of the Church, the noble families and the 



40 OUR COUNTRY. 

walled towns fell madly into conflict with each other; the 
secular feud of Pope and Emperor scourged the land; 
province against province; city against city; street against 
street waged remorseless war against each other from 
father. to son, till Dante was able to fill his imaginary hell 
with the real demons of Italian history. So ferocious had 
the factions become, that the great poet-exile himself, the 
glory of his native city and of his native language, was 
by a decree of the municipality, ordered to be burned 
alive, if found in the city of Florence. But these deadly 
feuds and hatreds yielded to political influences, as the 
hostile cities were grouped into states under stable govern- 
ments; the lingering traditions of the ancient animosities 
gradually died away, and now Tuscan and Lombard, 
Sardinian and Neapolitan, as if to shame the degenerate 
sons of America, are joining in one cry for an united 
Italy. 

In France, not to go back to the civil wars of the 
League in the sixteenth century, and of the Fronde in the 
seventeenth, — not to speak of the dreadful scenes through- 
out the kingdom which followed the revocation of the 
edict of Nantes, — we have, in the great revolution which 
comm'^nced at the close of the last century, seen the 
bloodhounds of civil strife let loose as rarely before in the 
history of the world. The reign of terror established at 
Paris, stretched its bloody Briarean arms to every city 



RESTORATION OF THE UXIOX. 41 

and village in the land, and if the most deadly leads 
which ever divided a people had the power to cau>e p-^r- 
manent alienation and hatred, this surely was the occasion. 
But far otherwise the fact. In seven years from the fall 
of Robespierre, the strong arm of the youthful conqueror 
brought order out of this chaos of crime and woe: Jaco- 
bins, whose hands were scarcely cleansed from the best 
blood of France, met the returning emigrants whose 
estates they had confiscated and whose kindred they had 
dragged to the guillotine, in the Imperial antechambers; 
and when, after another turn of the wheel of fortune, 
Louis XVIII. was restored to his throne, he took the 
regicide Fouche, who had voted for his brother's death, to 
his cabinet and confidence. 

These illustrations could be greatly multiplied, and all 
history warrants the grateful conclusion, that, when the 
authority of the General Government shall be happily 
re-established over the States in rebellion, an era of good 
feelii.g will return, and the difi"erent sections of the 
country, now so sadly estranged from each other, will be 
bound together more strongly than ever, by the ties of 
mutual respect and affection.* 



* It was on the 19th of Xovember, 1S63. that Mr. Everett, ever 
prompt to respond to the call of his country, having come from 
his distant home to assist in the consecration of the National 

4* 



42 OUR COUNTRY. 

Cemetery, delivered the address here alluded to, and which is 
destined to live in the National archives. It was a day, (we 
quote from our Diary of that date,) calm and glorious. From 
the second story of our friend's house, we had a full view of the 
grand procession as it moved towards Cemetery Hill. After an 
imposing military array, appeared the Executive and Legislative 
branches of our National and State Governments with a grand 
military escort; then came various delegations and associations 
from the most remote, as well as nearer, portions of our great 
empire. But no part of this grand display was so touching as 
the sight of a band of invalid and maimed soldiers, remnants of 
different brigades of the army, clad in their blue overcoats, and 
slowly following the immense and brilliant cavalcade, to the 
plaintive air of "When this cruel war is over" — Ah! and what 
then, my suffering braves? to you, there remains but a life of 
decrepitude and suffering. May your country see to it that poverty 
too shall not be in your future lot! After the entire procession 
had passed, accompanied by Mr. B., we drove to the Cemetery, 
As carriages were not allowed to enter the enclosure, we walked 
in, directing our course towards the table-land in the centre, but 
the crowd was so dense as to forbid our progress, and we returned 
to our carriage, where, upon a commanding eminence, we had a 
panoramic view of the scene around us. A solemn stillness per- 
vaded the immense assemblage, broken only by the sound of the 
speaker's voice, which was occasionally borne to our ears by a 
favoring breath of air. What a contrjj^t to the roar and thunder 
of battle of July 2d, when the possession of Cemetery Hill was so 
hotly contested by the contending armies! From the sight of the 
thousands of living men who had come together to do honor to 
those who had so lately died for their country, the imagination 



RESTORATION OF THE UNIOX. 4o 

turned to that Thursdiy (for this too was Thursday) when the 
dend and dying lay strewed around the hill sides, the valleys and 
the open fields, like leaves scattered by the autumn Ijlast. These 
are events too momentous for language to express; the imagina- 
tion fails before the awfully moral sublime, — and such we felt to 
be the scene before us, in its relation to the past, present and 
future of our country. Editor. 



SONG OF THE SOUTHERN LOYALISTS. 



Up with the Old Flag; fling out its folds: 
Stand by to witness it wave once more: 

Gather round readily^ lift it up steadily; 
Braver it looks than ever before. 

N'ot a Star vanished, — each one is there; 

Not a Stripe faded, no where a stain: 
Welcome it merrily, speak of it cheerily; 

God bless the day for the Old Flag again ! 

Sad was the season when it was struck; 

Darker, still darker, days languished on; 
Trampled down forcefully, touch it remorsefully; 

Love it the more, because lost and won. 

Up with the Old Flag; long may it float. 
Never a Pleiad lost from its plain; 

Lift it up lovingly, shout all approvingly, 
God bless the day for the Old Flag again I 



THE REBELLION. 



We have experienced a strange revolution in our habits, 
during the last three years. Before this time, there was 
not a nation on the face of the earth in which there was 
so little to remind one of military power. Our standing 
army consisted of some twelve or fifteen thousand men, 
scattered here and there on the outposts; in our navy- 
yards, unfinished ships had been rotting on the ways for 
more than forty years; our military musters had become 
such a farce, that the militia were every where disbanded. 
War was regarded as a thing of the past; we read the 
histories of old time and wondered at the infatuation 
which led the men of those days to settle their disputes 
by arms; the farmer, plodding behind his plough, some- 
times found in the sod a blackened musket-ball, and then 
he thanked God that the days of bloodshed were over for- 
ever; the artisan stood by the anvil, and with a song on 
his lips of "the good time coming," beat the swords into 
plough-shares; the merchant sent his vessel off upon the 
seas, thankful that there were no more pirates or priva- 
teersmen to obstruct the highway of nations; ministers of 



46 OUR COUNTRY. 

the Gospel denounced all war as unchristian; Carlylean 
philosophers ridiculed the notion of settling points of 
equity with lead and saltpetre; political economists figured 
up the awful cost of war, and startled the world by their 
arithmetic; Peace Congresses held their sessions and 
scattered abundant rose-water as a sovereign disinfectant; 
Non-Resistants met in council and protested against the 
contest of arms with a horrible strife of tongues; West 
Point Cadets by scores entered the ranks of the Christian 
ministry — some of them have gone back to the old ranks 
now; and our poets sang jubilantly of the reign of uni- 
versal amity and concord. 

They tune their harps to a wilder song to-day. For, 
what a change! The drum rattles in our ears from morn- 
ing till midnight; ponderous cannon rumble in our streets; 
all around our cities, acres of tents whiten the sward; the 
nation has been decimated to furnish soldiers; the only 
news that we care to read is that which comes from the 
seat of war; every where our tool-shops are making rifles 
and our foundries casting cannon; the basement of our 
Capitol has been turned into a mammoth bakery; — better 
use, perhaps, than it was put to, when loyal and rebel 
Senators became fraternal there, over the cup which 
inebriates as well as cheers. How strange it is to walk 
over the beautiful Arlington Heights, and see the culti- 
vated grounds cut up into streets, labelled by the New 



THE REBELLION. 47 

York boys, Broadvray, Bowery, Wall Street, Fifth 
Avenue; and then, entering the house, to find a U. S. 
Quarter- Master sitting at General Lee's writing-desk, 
with the old family portraits looking down reproachfully 
upon him. Strange associations were quickened at find- 
ing a venerable spinnet still standing in a dark corner, 
cob-webbed, mouldy and silent, which made music after 
its fashion years ago, touched in the evening twilight by 
fair fingers that have long since lost their cunning. 

But darker shadows crowd upon the picture, A hun- 
dred thousand men now lie upon their beds in our hos- 
pitals, or crawl out into the sun to see if the fresh breath 
of heaven will give them any new life; thousands upon 
thousands are sleeping, where the morning reveille will 
waken them no more; children ask every evening when 
their father will come home, who will never feel the warm 
pressure of his hand again; and "there is not a house, 
where there is not one dead." 

What does it all mean? What has happened, to bring 
all this misery upon us? What is it, which has called 
into being the largest army in the world, revolutionized 
all our habits, deranged our currency, burdened us with 
taxation, arrayed father against son, brother against 
brother, broken the ties of ancient friendships, and con- 
verted the land into an Aceldama of blood? We are in 
a state of civil war. Of civil war? 



48 OUR COUNTRY. 

Between whom? Men of the same lineage, the same 
interests, the same religion. 

A little more than eighty years ago, the New Englander 
and the Georgian stood side by side in the battle field, 
fighting to achieve for themselves one, free and inde- 
pendent nationality. When they fell, the child of the 
South pillowed his aching head on the bosom of his 
Northern brother; heart to heart, hand in hand, they 
grappled with the stern agonies of death, and passed 
away together to the land of spirits. 

To-day. the children of those men stand face to face on 
the bloody field, and each drives his bayonet in the other's 
heart. 

Three years ago, and one flag floated at the mast-head 
of every American vessel on the seas; on every fortifi- 
cation in the land, the morning breeze kissed the glorious 
old stars and stripes, under which our fathers made us 
free; and whenever or wherever in foreign lauds, an 
American saw that banner given to the winds, he felt that 
he was safe, and his heart bounded with loyal pride. 

To-day, that flag lies trailing in the dust, torn and dis- 
honored; and in many of our States, another banner, 
which our fathers knew not, with ten of the old stripes 
gone, and most of the stars blotted from the escutcheon, 
droops over the national forts, which rebels have stolen, 
the badge of sedition and infamy. 



THE REBELLIOX. 49 

What is the stake at issue, in this awful civil war ? 
The question to be determined is, shall we henceforth and 
forever cease to be a nation ? Shall our past history, 
with all its sacrifices and all its heroic deeds, of which we 
have been so proud, go for nothing? Shall the great 
experiment of constitutional freedom, with which God 
has charged us, come to a miserable and disgraceful end? 

If we fail in this contest, it will be because we deserve 
to fail; because we are not in earnest. But we must not 
fail. The nation must not die so soon. "Our fathers' 
blood cries to us from the ground." I hear the war-worn 
veterans of the Revolution, speaking out of the depths of 
eternity, and they say, "Remember us! remember what 
we endured; remember our sad defeats and our dear- 
bought victories; remember the long dreary days of 
discouragement, defection, disorder, secret and open 
treason, through which we passed, to make you a cation; 
and now will you suffer all this to be lost? Shall a 
wretched faction, which has for its one main object, the 
everlasting perpetuation of human bondage, be allowed to 
destroy the noblest political fabric ever erected on earth?" 

There are those amongst us who plead for peace; for 
peace, on almost any terms. Sometimes they hang out 
their icliite flags, when the Stars and the Stripes ought 
to be waving in the breeze, — and there they droop 
ingloriously, winding-sheets, pale shrouds, emblems of 
5 



50 OUR COUNTRY. 

national death. They say, humanity calls upon us to put 
an end to this hideous war. And so it does; it calls upon 
us to end the war, by conquering a peace. They say, it 
is a political war: and so it is, but not a party war. 
What question is there before the nation to-day, but that 
of life or death ! They say, we never can subjugate the 
South. We do not wish to subjugate the South, but only 
to crush this wicked rebellion. We wish to give the loyal 
men of the South freedom to utter their real sentiments; 
freedom to act in behalf of a cause, which is still dear to 
their hearts, although there is a padlock of steel on their 
lips. 

These men want peace. God knows we all want it. 
We long for peace, as the sick man longs for the light of 
the morning. We are weary of strife; weary of sending 
our brave boys to the war, and having them returned to 
us sick, maimed and dying. Our hearts are very weary 
of this work of death; weary of all the ghastly horrors of 
the battle-field; our children lying there, with their pale 
faces turned to the pitiless moon, and no man to bury 
them; gray hairs brought down in sorrow to the grave; 
mothers refusing to be comforted; the first-born, whom 
they once rocked in his little cradle and who used to put 
his arms around their neck and nestle in their bosom, as 
he slept so sweetly through the long winter nights, — now, 
these winter nights, sleeping the sleep which knows 



THE REBELLION. 51 

no waking, under the cold shroud of snow, — 0, it is 
too awful, will there never be an end of this horrible 
butchery? Shall we never have peace? 

Yes, we can have pqace whenever we say the word; on 
the condition of national suicide. We can have peace, 
on the condition that all the sacrifices we have already 
made, shall be naught. We can have peace, by consent- 
ing to national dismemberment; the end of which none 
can foresee, — which cuts the arteries of the land, and 
allows the life-blood to flow, till there is nothing left but a 
corpse. We can have peace for a year, on the condition 
of border wars, that will last for generations. For, 
wherever you draw the line, which divides the two nations, 
there must be a hundred miles of territory on both sides 
that will be a perpetual waste. We can have peace, on 
conditions that will put back the progress of the world for 
a century. We can have peace, by surrendering every 
thing that we have fought for, and giving our destiny into 
the hands of demagogues and tyrants. Is such a peace 
desirable? Is it not better, that we should suffer a little 
longer, if then we can ivin a peace, for which our posterity 
will have no cause to curse us. 



STARS OF MY COUNTRY'S SKY.* 



Are ye all there ? Are ye all there ? 

Stars of my country's sky; 
Are ye all there? Are ye all there, 

In your shining homes on high ? 
'^Count us!" "Count us!" was their answer, 

As they dazzled on uy view, 
In glorious perihelion. 

Amid their fields of blue. 

"I cannot count ye rightly, 

There's a cloud with sable rim; 
I cannot make your number out. 

For my eyes with tears are dim. 
0, bright and blessed Angel, 

On white wing floating by. 
Help me to count and not to miss 

One star in my country's sky." 

* Written in the Summer of 1860. 



STARS OF MY COUNTRY S SKY. 5o 

Then the Angel touch'd my eye-lids, 

And touch'd the frowning cloud, 
And its sable rim disparted, 

And it fled with murky shroud. 
There was no missing Pleiad, 

'Mid all that sister race; 
The Southern Cross shone radiant forth. 

And the Pole Star kept its place. 

Then I knew it was the Angel, 

Who woke the hymning strain; 
That at our dear Redeemer's birth, 

Flow'd out on Bethlehem's plain. 
And still its echoing key-tone, 

My listening country held. 
For all her constellated stars 

The diapason swell'd. 



5* 



OUR MARCH TO GETTYSBURG 



BATTLE OF JULY 3, 1863. 



The evening of the 19th day of June, found our Regi- 
ment, the 1st Eastern Shore of Maryland A^olunteers, 
scattered along the eastern Peninsula of Maryland and 
Virginia: Some on Provost duty in the important towns; 
some on the shores of the beautiful Chesapeake, while 
others were on the islands, lagoons, and extensive bayous 
that line the Atlantic coast, where the deep blue ocean 
rolls — 

"Dark, heaving, boundless, endless and sublime." 

An orderly dashed up to head-quarters with a despatch 
from the General Commanding, directing immediate con- 
centration of the Regiment, and its embarkation for the 
City of Baltimore. The news spread, there was a stir in 
camp; the soldier understood there was an end to his in- 
activity, and that he was soon to enter upon the sterner 
duties of military life. Orderlies were despatched in every 



OUR MARCH TO GETTYSBURG. 00 

direction, the fast sailing canoe was put in requisition, 
and flew like a gull over the waters, with the hurried 
despatch summoning these men of Maryland, to meet the 
enemy on the border. 

On the 23d of June, our scattered detachments had 
coveyed together, and were encamped on the environs of 
Baltimore. There we found great anxiety, and extensive 
preparations being made to meet the threatened advance 
of the enemy. It was known that General Lee was 
moving rapidly northward with his entire force^ and it was 
believed that Baltimore was his goal. General Ewell had 
crossed the Potomac on the 22d, and was marching up 
the valley towards Hagerstown. General Hill crossed on 
the 27th, and was soon followed by Longstreet, and the 
entire rebel forces of northern Virginia. Chambersburg, 
Gettysburg, York and Hanover, were rapidly occupied by 
the enemy. These operations naturally created great 
alarm in the Monumental City. The enemy was within 
two days march, and there was no defence. The army of 
the Potomac seemed to be lost, and the distracted people 
knew not which way to look for succor. In this extremity, 
with the spirit of 1814, they set to work in their own 
defence. The citizens volunteered by thousands; business 
was partially suspended, and drill was the order of the 
day. In the midst of this excitement we arrived in the 
city, and for a few days assisted in garrisoning one of 



56 OUR COUNTRY. 

the numerous forts which had so suddenly sprung into 
existence. 

On the 28th June, we received marching orders, and 
were directed to join the army of the Potomac, and report 
without delay, to Brigadier General Lockwood, at Mo- 
nocacy Bridge. By 11 o'clock. A, M., tents were 
struck, wagons packed, and we were off. As we filed 
through the streets the band struck up some martial air, 
and with a shout, we bade farewell to our homes and to 
the dear ones left behind. As the soldier stepped gaily 
forward, little did he dream that he might never return, 
but deeming '^all men mortal but himself," with a firm 
and steady gait, we all went "marching along." 

Without incident, we rapidly passed over the bcfiutiful 
country that lies each side of the Frederick turnpike, and 
entered the village of Ellicotts ^lills, as the sun was going 
to rest. The excitement of the city had spread to the 
village. The whole population turned out to give us 
welcome, and cheer us on. National banners were dis- 
played from every house we passed. Loyal-hearted men 
gathered in groups, and gave loud expression to their 
sympathies, while beautiful ladies clapped their hands for 
joy, and loaded us down with choice flowers. The heart 
of this loyal village was stirred, and we were deeply 
grateful for this sudden and unexpected ovation. We 
encamped near by, serenaded the ladies, and enjoyed the 



OUR MARCH TO GETTYSBURG. 57 

substantial hospitalities of our new made friends until a 
late hour of the night. 

The morning of the 29th dawned ujDon us bright and 
beautiful. The reveille started me from my slumbers at 
the first grey of the morning. Preparations were made 
for a speedy departure, and with the rising of the sun, we 
resumed our march. Before leaving, I could but linger, 
and admire the beautiful scenery that lay around me — we 
had encamped upon the summit of a lofty hill In front 
was the thriving village, just beginning to stir with life; 
at the foot of the hill lay the smiling valley of the Patapsco, 
dappled all over with elegant homesteads of a wealthy and 
refined population. The cattle were just rising from their 
dewy beds; the sheep were going forth to pasture; the 
mists of the river were floating over the meadows, while 
the rich red rays of the sun were gleaming over the hill 
tops and waking all nature into newness of life. For a 
few moments, I was enraptured with the delightful vision. 
The command had gone and left me, but spurring my 
horse, I soon regained my comrades. 

This was the Sabbath-day, but it was no day of rest to 
us. Our orders and the exigencies of the public service 
demanded that we should press forward. So, onward we 
marched under the burning rays of a harvest sun^ and 
after passing twenty-eight to thirty miles, weary and way- 
worn, we encamped in a beautiful grove at "Poplar 



58 OUR COUNTRY. 

Springs." Before our arrangements for the night were 
complete, darkness was upon us. A hasty supper was 
prepared, the camp-fires were dying out, many sore-footed 
soldiers had retired to rest; but the sound of the tattoo 
roused them from their slumbers. A cavalry-man rode 
hurriedly into camp with the startling intelligence that 
our communications were cut oflf, that the enemy was in 
strong force between us and Baltimore, but a short 
distance down the road, and would probably move upon 
us before morning. As evidence of the truth of his story, 
he brought with him a prisoner who proved to be a very 
intelligent young fellow, and upon examination, stated 
that he belonged to Stewart's Cavalry, that his General 
had crossed the Potomac the night before at Seneca 
Creek, that he was encamped down the road about two 
miles with five brigades of Cavalry and Artillery, and had 
been informed by his scouts that we were in the vicinity. 
Had a thunderbolt descended from the heavens, in a 
cloudless sky, it would not have been more startling than 
this intelligence. No one imagined that there was an 
enemy within forty miles. It was supposed that the army 
of the Potomac and the two mountain ranges were between 
us and the foe; but when it became evident that we were 
face to face with so overwhelming a force, and liable to 
be attacked and cut to pieces at any moment, our con- 
dition assumed a very serious aspect. Retreat was out of 



OUR MARCH TO GETTYSBURG. 59 

the question. To move forward seeaied equally dangerous, 
for from all that was known to us, it was fair to presume 
that the rebels were in front as well as rear. It was a 
moment of intense solicitude and fearful responsibility. 
Not knowing which way to go, it was determined, as our 
position was naturally strong and well taken, to stay 
where we were and hold our ground at all hazards. In 
the meantime, Duvall's Cavalry had encountered the 
enemy down the road, and a section of Rhode Island 
Artillery had fallen back and joined their fortune to ours. 
A short reconnoisance determined the best disposition to 
be made of our little force. The artillery-men were 
placed on the summit of the hill commanding the road 
that led to our camp The infantry were marched up to 
support our battery, and so placed as to enfilade the 
approaches to our position. A cavalry picket was thrown 
down the different roads to watch the movements of the 
enemy. While the residue of our mounted men were 
placed to the rear, the wagons were parked, and a strong 
picket line placed entirely around our camp. With these 
dispositions we lay upon our arms, determined not to be 
surprised, and awaited an attack. As the hours of night 
passed away, all nature become quiet; not a sound was 
heard save the low whispers of the men at arms, giving 
evidence that they were on the alert. About two o'clock 
in the morning, the noise of approaching horsemen was 



60 OUR COUNTRY. 

heard thundering down the pike. The clattering of many 
hoofs floating along the still morning air, gave tidings 
that our pickets were returning with speed. "What is the 
matter?" ''what is the matter?" whispered each one to his 
neighbor. All thought the enemy were upon us. Every 
man looked at his weapon and received perfect assurance 
that all was in order. Eyes gleamed into the dark to 
catch the outlines of the approaching foe, while every ear 
caught up the slightest sound that might explain the tumult 
on the road. It was the return of our outer picket — some 
misunderstanding having caused them prematurely to fall 
back. Another cavalryman came into camp from the 
rear. It was one of the bold scouts of the brave Kilpat- 
rick, and he gave us the pleasing intelligence that his 
Chief, with five thousand men, lay encamped five miles in 
front. He was immediately despatched with a note to his 
General, giving intelligence of the presence of the enemy 
and our position. He soon returned with advice that we 
should march to Ridgeville, and take shelter under the 
batteries and strong legions that lay encamped at that 
place. Knowing the enemy would be astir at early dawn 
hoping to catch us asleep; with the first streak of light, 
we called in our outposts and marched quietly away. We 
passed the advanced guard of Kilpatrick moving down the 
road, and with the rising sun, we stacked our arms upon 
a commanding hill that overlooked the village of Ridge- 



OUR MARCH TO GETTYSBURG. 61 

ville. Scarcely bad our camp fires been kindled, wben 
tbe guard we bad passed, came flying down tbe road; tbe 
old Ringgold battery dasbed into our lines — unlimbered, 
loaded, and trailed tbeir pieces. The enemy was at 
band. Twenty minutes from tbe time we left our camp, 
be was after us; but we bad gone. A band to band fight 
took place with tbe advanced guard we passed; tbey were 
overpowered and chased back into our midst. 

A bugle was sounded, and tben was witnessed one of 
tbe most magnificent scenes I ever beheld. Kilpatrick's 
Cavalry was in motion. In a moment they deployed as 
skirmishers, and like wild Tartars, went bounding over 
fields and fences, meadows and woodlands. They dis- 
appeared behind tbe bills and forests in eager bunt for 
tbe foe. Stewart, finding bis prey bad escaped, and bis 
old enemy was upon bis heels, beat a hasty retreat, and 
fled towards Westminster. Again tbe bugles of Kil- 
patrick sounded tbe recall. Tbe echo bad bardly died 
away over tbe bills, before tbe daring horsemen were seen 
pouring out of the forests, over the fields, and down tbe 
roadways, until tbe hillsides and summits were black with 
tbeir thousands. In a moment more tbe advance was 
sounded— and away they went, rushing dashing, plunging 
down upon the retreating enemy. Tbe rumbling of 
artillery, tbe tramping of thousands of horses, tbe wild 
shout of excited men reverberated over bill and valley, 
6 



62 OUR COUNTRY. 

and died away in the distance like the roar of old ocean 
thundering against its rock-bound shore. 

About noon we resumed our march, but had not passed 
the town before we encountered two corps of the noble, 
war-worn, battle-tried army of the Potomac, pushing on 
in an impetuous torrent to meet their old enemy on a field 
far to the north of their former battle grounds. 

Here we received an order from General Lockwood^ 
changing our destination, and ordering us to cut across 
the country, and make for Taneytown by the shortest 
route, and report at that place. It now became evident 
that our fortunes were to be joined to those of the Grand 
Army of the Potomac, and we were to share with them 
the glory of some hardly contested fight. Leaving them 
however, for the present, when they diverged to West- 
minster, we made for Liberty, thence to Middleburgh, 
and arrived at Taneytown, on the evening of July 1st. 
Here we met General Meade, whose head(][uarters were 
then there, and from whom we learned that our brigade 
of Marylanders had joined the 12th Army Corps, and 
were marching for Gettysburg, where a battle was then 
progressing. 

On the morning of the 2d, we emptied knapsacks, 
abandoned all extra baggage, left behind the sick and 
disabled, and started on a rapid march for the field of 
conflict. Soon we met the usual stream flowing back 



OUR MARCH TO GETTYSBURG. 63 

from the field of battle. First, a long train of wagons 
hurrying out of the way; then a bearer of despatches; 
then a troop of cavalry dashing by; then a squad of 
fugitives skulking out of the way of danger; and each 
gave an account of the progress of the fight according 
to the heat of his imagination. 

Excited by these reports, we quickened our pace, and 
mile after mile was rapidly passed, though occasionally 
obstructed, hindered, and stopped by the passing trains 
and troops moving to the rear, until about six o'clock in 
the afternoon we reached an elevated knoll — and there lay 
spread out before us the field of G-ettysburg, the grandest 
battle-scene ever witnessed upon the continent of America. 

A long line of blue resting upon a prominent ridge, 
and a succession of hill-tops sweeping from the Round-top 
mountain on the left, to Gulp's hill on the right, indicated 
the army of the Potomac. While upon a corresponding 
range of hills, distant about one mile, circling round the 
position of General Meade, was stationed the Confederate 
army. 

The valley between these two ranges of hills was the 
scene of the terrible struggle that was shaking the very 
earth beneath our feet. Large masses of troops were seen 
moving to and fro, leaving old and taking new positions. 
The pillars of white smoke and the flash of guns told 
where the enginery of death was at work. We descended 



64 OUR COUNTEY. 

into the plain just in tirae to witness the close of the 
terrible struggle between Sickles and Longstreet. After a 
furious cannonade from more than one hundred guns, the 
enemy had massed his forces, descended with loud shouts 
into the valley, and like an avalanche swept over the 
intervening plain, and charged up the opposite hill, where 
they met the Sixth Army Corps standing like a wall of 
brass. Twenty guns now opened upon the advancing 
columns of the enemy, mowing down great masses, and 
cutting wide lanes at every discharge through their stag- 
gering ranks; but still on they rushed, over dead and 
wounded that were falling like autumn leaves, until half 
the hill was gained. In an instant the long line of blue 
changed into a line of fire — the Round-top smoked like a 
volcano — the quivering masses of the enemy reeled, 
staggered^ broke and fled. The bugles sounded the 
recall, the enemy retired to his lines on hills, and the 
conflict ceased for the day, while we marched away to 
join our brigade. 

The dark shadows of the night overtook us ere we 
found our chief. We kindled our camp fires, and lay 
down on the ensanguined field; but the rumbling of am- 
bulance trains, the hum of living, moving, excited masses 
of men, and the cries of the wounded, robbed me of sleep 
until the later watches of the night. As I lay at the 
root of a tree with my saddle for a pillow, and looking 



OUR MARCH TO GETTYSBURG. 65 

up at the starry heavens above, my spirit wandered 
homeward, and dwelt with the loved ones left behind. 
Memory recalled our parting scene; the image of the 
tearful, heart-broken wife, the weeping children, the in- 
nocent, curly haired little boy that clung around my neck 
and would not let me go — and the painful thought forced 
itself upon me, that the morrow — the unknown morrow — 
might part us forever. With a sad, yet confiding heart, 
I sank to rest, commitring myself and the terrible events 
of the morrow into the hands of an all-wise and merciful 
God. 

The early dawn of July 3d, 1863, was ushered in by 
salvos of artillery. One hundred and fifty thousand men 
responding to the sound, sprung to their arms and prepared 
for the most terrible conflict of this terrible war. General 
Lee had, during the night, collected his entire force, and 
marshaled near ninety thousand men for his last great 
effort to break our lines, and crush our army. General 
Meade, however, with the quick perception of a great 
leader, discovering our weakest points, strengthened 
them during the night, and presented in the morning a 
position well nigh impregnable. His centre, commanded 
by General Howard, was on Cemetery Hill, a lofty emi- 
nence overlooking the town of Gettysburg, and command- 
ing the country for miles around. From this point ran a 
range of hills to the right and left, sweeping backwards 
6* 



66 OUK COUNTRY. 

for several miles on either side. Upon this ridge was the 
army of General Meade posted, with reserves between; 
thus giving to our position the form of a triangle, with 
the apex facing the town of Gettysburg. The enemy 
occupied a corresponding ridge about one mile distant, 
and part of the village, with a beautiful plain between. 
The right flank of Meade's army rested on Gulp's and 
Wolf's Hills, and was commanded by General Slocum, 
while the left was held by the 2d, 6th, 3d and 5th 
Corps. 

Our brigade of Marylanders, under Lockwood, having 
arrived about sunset the evening before, were moved to 
the right to reinforce Slocum, and aid in driving back the 
enemy who had penetrated our lines on the evening pre- 
vious at "Spangler's Spring." These dispositions having 
been made, the ball was opened about 4 o'clock by a 
small battery on the left of the Baltimore Pike, throwing 
shell into the wooded slopes occupied by the enemy. At 
5 o'clock Lock wood deployed his brigade and moved 
upon the enemy, and the action fairly commenced along 
the whole line. 

The 1st Potomac, under Colonel Maulsby, gallantly 
supported by the 150th New York, under Col. Ketchum, 
pressed hard upon Early's left, and drove him back, step 
by step in a well contested fight over the ground gained 
from us the evening before, and retook our rifle pits. 



OUR MARCH TO GETTYSBURG. 67 

At 7 o'clock orders came for our regiment to move to 
the front. In a moment we were off in quick time down 
the pike, through Spangler's Lane, and into the bloody 
field we plunged. Ah! here was a scene that beggars 
description. Over this ground the fight had raged for 
two hours before our arrival, and all around lay the dead 
and wounded, and to the novice in war as I was, the 
scene was truly appalling; but there was no time for 
sympathy or contemplation. Aids from General Williams 
were hurrying us up; the enemy had rallied for another 
assault, and we wheeled into line and marched up a small 
hill to relieve a Pennsylvania regiment. The enemy, 
taking advantage of these movements and the slackened 
fire, made a dash at our rifle pits, and as we gained the 
summit, they were seen rushing down an opposite slope, 
and through a wooded valley, yelling like wild Indians. 
A volley from our splendid rifles over the heads of some 
Pennsylvanians in the rifle pits, checked their headway, 
and two more sent them flying back. The enemy rallied 
again, and we advanced and took possession of the rifle 
pits and relieved the Pennsylvanians, whose ammunition 
was exhausted. For two hours the crack of rifles, and 
the rattle of musketry were incessant, varied occasionally 
by the explosion of shells. Thus the battle raged along 
our entire line. At 10 J o'clock there was a lull — the 
enemy drew back, we stacked our arms and lay down to 



68 OUR COUNTRY. 

rest. But this lull was the awful silence before the 
bursting of the storm. The fight ceased for the day upon 
the right; but the enemy was gathering his forces for his 
final attack. At 2 o'clock the tempest came. Three 
hundred pieces of artillery shook the earth; shells went 
screaming through the air, like fiends from below; the 
hills echoed and re-echoed the sounds of strife, until the 
very air trembled, and all natured seemed in turmoil. 
About 2J o'clock the enemy emerged from behind 
Seminary ridge, and moved across the plain in two 
massive columns towards our left centre, commanded by 
Gen. Hancock. The Emmitsburg road was gained; then 
our artillery opened, and the heads of columns fell like grass 
before the mower's scythe; but still on came the roaring, 
shouting, surging masses of the enemy, up to the very 
cannon's mouth. Ten thousand rifles flashed destruction 
in their face; whole ranks fell at every discharge — but 
still on they came, over piles of dead and martyred heroes; 
the fortunes of the day trembled in the balance; the 
destiny of our nation hung upon a hair — but the 2d 
Corps stood like a wall of adamant, and dealt out such 
blows that flesh and blood could not stand. Stauuard 
and Webb seeing the enemy falter, threw their brave 
legions upon them, and the cold steel turned the tide of 
battle in our favor. The enemv broke and fled. 



OUR MARCH TO GETTYSBURG. 69 

In the meantime, our brigade had been ordered np as 
a reinforcement, and in the midst of this tornado of battle 
we reached the foot of Cemetery hill in time to see the 
gallant charge of Stannard and Webb — to see the enemy 
stagger back^ break and fly in wild confusion over the 
plains; just in time to hear and join in the shout of victory 
that burst forth from twenty thousand exultant hearts. 
Oh ! it was a glorious shout. It was the triumphant out- 
burst of joy and gladness from the hearts of victorious 
freemen. The refrain was caught up by thousands from 
the adjacent hills, and the glad tidings were spread from 
Wolf's hill to Round-top in one general, long, enthusi- 
astic peal, that went ringing over the old Keystone State, 
and vibrating in every loyal heart in the land. Thus 
ended the great battle of Gettysburg. 



THE FLAG 



Hail ! all hail ! to Columbia's flag, 

Flag of Liberty, Justice, and Truth; 
She shall wave it forever and aye, 
Like an eagle renewing her youth. 

Then all hail to the Stars and the Stripes ! 

To the flag of the brave and the free; 
And as long as the stars shall endure 
Shall it wave o'er the land and the sea. 

The Pacific shall mirror its stars; 

With its stripes the Atlantic shall glow, 
From the Gulf to the Lakes shall it wave 

Over hill, plain, and valley below. 
Then all hail, &c. 

'Neath that flag was our liberty born. 
And our nation to greatness has grown; 

For our banner on land and at sea 
Is the Star Spangled Banner alone. 
Then all hail, &c. 



THE FLAG. 71 

With its stripes is our history entwined, 

By its stars is our future illumed, 
He who fails to defend it to day 

To the fate of the traitor is doomed. 
Then all hail, &c. 

When our fathers their freedom maintained 
The Almighty himself was their friend ; 

And, whatever the foes that assail, 
May He, us and our children defend. 
Then all hail, &c. 



Yellow Springs, Ohio, 1861, 



CONSEQUENCES 



OF THE 



DISCOVERY OF AMERICA 



To a Genoese navigator was given the transcendent 
privilege of conferring the greatest boon on the human 
race that ever fell to the lot of a human being. Kings 
have bestowed laws, charters, and charitable endowments. 
Philanthropists have instituted great reforms. Philoso- 
phers have created systems and methods of inquiry. 
Religious enthusiasts have swept away the accumulated 
evils of centuries. Socrates, Aristotle, Constantine, 
Justinian, Charlemagne, Abelard, Luther, Bacon, Des- 
cartes, Galileo, Watts, Franklin, Washington, and others 
of immortal fame, have been the instruments of great 
movements which have resulted in the prosperity and 
happiness of mankind. They are benefactors of the race, 
and grateful nations will not let them die. But Christo- 
pher Columbus gave a new continent — added half a 
hemisphere to the enterprises of man, and made a new 
field of inconceivable activities, the greatness of which has 



DISCOVERY OF AMERICA. 73 

only just began to be appreciated, — changing the currents 
of human thought and energies, and presenting boundless 
opportunities. 

Like all great boons, it was providential, and brought 
about only by almost superhuman energy, patience, and 
fortitude. The fortunes of Columbus have an irresistible 
charm. His scheme is a marvel of genius. It was an 
inspiration. He inferred that the Atlantic was the 
common boundary of the eastern and western world — of 
the islands of Marco Polo, and the western shore gf 
Europe. He did not dream of a new continent, but of a 
new way to reach India and China. He pondered day 
and night to solve a great geographical mystery. He 
collated charts and maps, read Ptolemy and Hipparchus, 
meditated on the travels of Polo and Mandeville, specu- 
lated on Plato's Atalantis, and studied the phenomena of 
the ocean. The more he meditated, the profounder were 
his convictions of unknown lands in the west. These were 
grounded on the rotundity of the earth, on travels to the 
east, and the strange plants and carved woods which had 
floated occasionally from the west, — as he supposed from 
the eastern shores of Asia. 

He resolved to reach those distant shores, so full of 

mystery and dread — yea, so rich in gold and silver, in 

gems and spices^ by sailing in ships directly west. He 

wished simply to avoid the almost impossible labor of 

7 



74 , OUR COUNTRY. 

crossing the eastern continent. He was inspired by a 
couiiuercial idea. He would add to the wealth of the 
world, and aggrandise the mercantile powers of Europe. 

But enormous difficulties stared him in the face. He 
was without means, or credit, or influence. He had no 
ships or devoted followers. He had no charts. He did 
not know how distant were those eastern realms. The 
ocean was unexplored. He alone saw the end, but he 
could not inspire others with his faith. He appealed to 
various Courts. They were indifferent. He tried the 
Universities, but scientific men decided against him. 
Nobody believed in him. He was regarded as a dreamer 
and a visionary. I may not linger on the well known 
incidents of his residence in Spain — his deferred hopes — 
his unsatisfactory correspondence— his delays at Court — 
his disappointments — his poverty, and other obstacles 
which almost drove him to despair. 

But help came, as is usual with great benefi^ctions, from 
unexpected sources. It is seldom that the schemes of 
genius are comprehended by those from whom we expect 
sympathy. His aid came from a Saint, and a woman. 
Keligion and love are the first to understand genius ; and 
genius ever looks to Saints and woman for believers. 
Juan Perez, a monk, believes in him, as Ali did in 
Mohammed. He secured his introduction to Isabella, and 
she also believed, as Kadijah did in the Prophet. She 



DrSCOVERY OF AMERICA. 75 

felt an attraction which partook of affection. The great 
object of his life is furnished him in the benediction of an 
enlightened Saint, and the smile of a sympathetic woman. 
Never let genius despair when it is encouraged by piety 
and love. They are the divine voices of our world. 

A munificent Queen, amid the doubts and jeers of 
nobles, furnishes the means. The ships are small. 
They have not even decks. The sailors are clamorous, 
mercenary and superstitious. No matter. Genius holds 
the helm. Faith inspires the soul. Providence assists 
those who trust in Him. The breezes are propitious. 
The sky is serene. The needle varies, but the variations 
are explained. Columbus sails onward. Deception fol- 
lows deception. Mirages skirt the horizon. Amid 
murmurs and fears the land is reached. A new continent 
is added to the realm of civilization. 

We will not dwell on the varied fortunes of the intrepid 
Admiral. What care we, whether rewarded or un- 
rewarded — whether loved or hated — whether rich or 
poor — whether honored or persecuted? He has his 
reward. He is enrolled in the catalogue of the greatest 
benefactors. He is a favorite of heaven. All benefactors 
have varied fortunes. They contend with envy and 
hatred. That is their lot. And they are isolated men, 
like Dante and Galileo, and Michael-Angelo — from 
superior knowledge, finding that the increase of know- 



76 OUR COUNTRY. 

ledge is the increase of sorrow. If this life were all, we 
should compassionate Columbus, when slandered, per- 
secuted, robbed, and deprived of honors. But his great 
soul lives, and is marching on. Robed in immortal 
glory, we care nothing for the accidents of earth. 

We are most interested in the gift itself, worthy of a 
deity, which he conferred — in the results of his great 
discovery. They suggest great inquiries. On this, it is 
good to meditate. 

What are the consequences of the discovery of 
America ? They may be classed under two heads — the 
impulse given to material forces, and the new theatre 
afforded for human experiments. Who can estimate the 
vast energies which have been directed to commerce, 
colonization, and material gains? Who can measure 
the enrichment of Spain and Portugal, Holland and 
England, from the precious metals which the adventurers 
found in Mexico and Peru ? Commerce was immeasu- 
rably stimulated throughout the world; and the East 
Indies furnished spices, and silks and teas, as well as 
the West the precious metals. Asia and Europe were 
brought together, and comprehended each other. The 
islands of the sea revealed inexhaustible resources. New 
fruits, vegetables, and flowers were given to man. The 
rapid increase in arts and culture, in palaces and gardens, 
in statues and paintings — in all forms of material civili- 



DISCOVERY OF AMERICA. 77 

zation received a mighty impulse — everywhere, especially 
in the maritime cities. What poetry in the voyage of 
Ojida, of Nino, of Pinzon, of Balboa, of Vespucci, of 
Cabot, of Raleigh? The coasts and rivers of the whole 
American continent are gradually explored. The riches 
of Brazil and Mexico, and Peru are revealed. Factories 
are established in distant cities on the shores of the Indian 
Ocean. More wealth flows to Spain than all the Eastern 
Countries of Asia afforded to Rome and mediaeval 
Europe. England gains fisheries and colonies. Portugal 
rivals the East. Holland becomes a first class power. 
The enterprise of all Europe is stimulated. And a field 
of enterprise and hope for the poor man, is opened in the 
West. He settles in the wilderness with his wife and 
children. He explores mountains and rivers. Every- 
where he finds a rich soil and a genial climate. He can 
fly from oppression at home, to peace and competence 
abroad. On the banks of the Mississippi, he finds that 
he is still in the middle of the world. Every place is 
alike a new centre. The whole continent is colonized by 
ambitious and energetic races. Indians and wolves alike 
flee before them. New populations multiply with unex- 
ampled rapidity. No man need now starve or beg on the 
whole earth. A garden of Eden is found in the West, of 
virgin soil — productive beyond all the past precedents of 
the world. A population exceeding all Europe, can be 
7* 



78 OUR COUNTRY. 

fed. With the new scope for energies, all plants and 
fruits and animals are multiplied. Inventions keep pace 
with the field for enterprise. Machinery comes in as a 
mighty power, abridging the labors, while it multiplies 
the necessities of man. It is invested with the glories 
of ancient art. It accomplishes the most astonishing 
results, cutting through mountains, spanning rivers, filling 
up valleys, conquering nature, and even making the most 
powerful animals insignificant as aids in labor. It trans- 
ports travellers forty miles an hour over mountains and 
plains, almost annihilates distances. It sends messages 
across a continent more rapidly than lightning passes 
from cloud to cloud. It batters down the grandest 
fortifications at a distance of five thousand yards. It 
moves ten thousand tons through surging billows, against 
wind and currents, with the speed of a race-horse. It 
borrows the unknown forces of nature to unite distant 
countries in complete and constant communications. It 
scans, and measures, and counts the stars. It finds agents 
in the bowels of the earth. It builds cities in a day. It 
illuminates them in the night, with the brightness of the 
sun. It garners in the harvest of the husbandman, and 
transports it one thousand miles at less expense, than 
horses could have carried it on level roads, a twentieth 
part the distance three hundred years ago. It can clothe 
more people in a week than all the looms of antiquity 



DISCOVERY OF AMERICA. 79 

could do in a year. It has made every man a Briareus. 
Tt has filled the world with Titans. It outworks Hercules 
in labors and in heroisms. So, the new world is popu- 
lated with men who fear nothing, and overcome every- 
thing, heat, cold, darkness, fire, water; for energies, have 
been so amazingly stimulated that they seem miraculous. 
A continent, howling, desolate, uninhabited, except by 
savages, is covered, in three hundred years, with cities, 
farms, palaces, churches, monuments, armies, everything 
pertaining to civilization, and surpassing the glories of 
ancient Rome and Greece. If Columbus could re-visit 
the wilderness he discovered, he would see more wonders 
in every direction, for thousands of miles, than ever 
Genoa and Venice, and Madrid afibrded. He would see 
a material greatness absolutely astonishing; civilized 
nations more powerful than the Spaniards and Italians, 
and the English and Dutch together, when he set ofi* on 
his daring voyage. These nations^ he was instrumental 
in calling into being, and this wondrous civilization, he, 
more than any other man, promoted. Fortunate pioneer; 
how great are the blessings he has bestowed upon the 
race ! He thought only to enrich Spain. He has 
enriched all nations and countries. And he has given a 
home to all the miserable and the oppressed upon the face 
of the earth. And they rise up and call him blessed. 
Some day, they will erect a monument to his memory, 



80 OUR COUNTRY. 

higher than the pyramids; more magnificent than St. 
Peter's Church. The gold and silver alone which he has 
given to man, would gild every palace and temple of the 
ancient world. The cotton which his colonists have 
planted, could clothe the human race; and the corn of the 
Indian, could feed them. No longer hunger and famine 
on the earth; America can supply all the starving nations. 
No longer poverty and nakedness; she can give a shelter 
and a garden. She has even converted the naked 
African, against his will, into a Christian, and his very 
slavery has proved his blessing. She even promises him 
liberty, and this wild child of burning deserts, is to rejoice 
in the new land, already his own magnificent heritage, 
purchased by sufi'ering and tears. 

We take, however, a very inadequate idea of the 
destinies of America, or the splendid boon conferred on 
civilization by Columbus, if we look merely to material 
progress. There was a magnificent civilization among 
the Greeks and Romans; but they were unable and 
unwilling to preserve it. Those nations passed away, 
like Assyrian and Egyptian monarchies; and the fruit of 
their labors was reaped by new races — mere barbarians 
from the German forests. Civilization did not perish, but 
entered into new combinations. Nothing which the 
genius of man creates is sufi"ered to die. Yet men die, 
and nations perish. The Roman world, with all its proud 



DISCOVERY OF AMERICA. 81 

trophies of dominion, passed away. No influences were 
sufiiciently conservative to save it — neither art, nor 
science, nor literature, nor philosophy, nor jurisprudence, 
nor a remarkable mechanism of government. Nothing 
which comes from man's unaided genius can save man in 
the great crisis of misfortune or degeneracy. Higher 
influences are necessary. They came too late among the 
Romans. Their Empire was doomed long before the 
barbarian advanced to conquer and to reconstruct. No 
genius or good fortune, or propitious circumstances of soil 
and climate can save a nation when moral forces have fled. 
This is the uniform history of the world. As it has been, 
so it will be. It is a law of Divine Providence that pros- 
perity will provoke luxury and pride, and thus lead to 
effeminacy and ruin, without the conservative influence 
which springs from Christian ideas. There will be ever- 
lasting circles in which society will run, unless man gains 
strength from supernatural aid. The Gospel is the only 
hope of the world, and the great principles which are to 
be deduced from it. 

There is no reason drawn from reason, or experience, 
or Christianity why America will not share the fate of all 
the other nations, unless animated by higher principles 
than have had dominion in our world. It will be split 
up into rival States; it will be convulsed by anarchies; it 
will be formed into monarchies and tyrannies; it will 



82 OUR COUNTRY. 

degenerate, and be punished if there are not patriotism, 
virtue and intelligence among the people. Never yet 
have they proved their capacities for .self-government. 
Self-government is still an experiment. Godless, and 
thoughtless and ignorant people will choose bad rulers, — 
there will be public and private corruption, dissensions, 
blunders, follies, — all leading to dissolutions and recon- 
structions. Ignorant and incapable rulers will run the 
ship ashore; and degenerate people will acquiesce in the 
ruin for the sake of change and spoils. There must be 
virtue and intelligence even here, in order to preserve 
our magnificent inheritance. 

We fondly hope for the best. We do not trust in 
human nature: we trust in God and His religion. We 
are sanguine of an indefinite progress. We believe in 
truth — in regenerating ideas. We have faith in the final 
elevation of the race — in the restored Eden — in the reign 
of righteousness. We are warranted in this faith. 

Now where can a new field be found so favorable as 
America for the trial of this last great experiment ? Not 
in Europe, nor Asia, nor Africa, It must be tried here. 
We are Christians. We spring from noble races. We 
have accepted the great ideas which grow out of Christian 
equality. We annihilate slavery. We institute schools 
and colleges for the poor. We elevate the poor man. 
We give liberty to all. We have glorious witnesses of 



DISCOVERY OF AMERICA. 83 

truth in every village and city. We approve the right. 
We execrate the wrong. We contend chiefly with 
inexperience. We believe in the future world. We 
merge the finite in the infinite, and in the majesty of 
man we adore the majesty of God. 

Believing that America is the truest field for the 
development of virtue and intelligence, and, rejoicing in 
our past triumphs— our successive reforms — our educa- 
tional institutions, our aspirations for happiness on a 
sound foundation, we consider that its real dignity and 
greatness consist in the opportunities for ever advancing 
light and peace. Her mission, we believe, is to civilize 
the world— to show that self-government is practicable, 
and that the normal corruption of society can be arrested 
by the great truths which we accept. 

Hence it is the peculiar blessings which the people in 
this country enjoy pertaining to liberty and education 
and the worship of God, which constitute our birth- 
right, and make America the hope and glory of the 
world. Columbus gave it a new theatre of action and 
passion. And the reformers of the older nations came 
here to try their experiments. We are to solve the 
problems of liberty, and the culture of the great mass. 
Our institutions are not copies: they are indigenous, as 
jurisprudence was to the Romans, and arts to the Greeks. 
Political liberty is born with us. It only exists in name 



84 OUR COUNTEY. 

in Europe. Popular education is American and not 
European. Schools, and colleges, and lyceums thrive 
here as in no other country, for they belong to the poor 
and not the rich. Every man can rise. Most men do 
rise. See what strides have been made by Irish and 
German emigrants! They have corrupted us, but we 
have raised them. The balance is in favor of liberty 
and happiness and knowledge. Our very war— so disas- 
trous—so mournful— so dark a shade on American insti- 
tutions, was yet a necessary event— like the melting 
away of Indian tribes incapable of civilization. And 
it will prove providential. If the Crusades— those exe- 
crable wars, resulted in the civilization of Europe, much 
more this war in defence of national unity. Slavery 
may be swept away; this is one of the issues; but is this 
a lasting calamity? National bankruptcy may come; 
but the credit system will give place to something better, 
even though it involves the annihilation of all the na- 
tional debts of Europe. State rights may suffer, but the 
centralization of power, as desired by Hamilton, may 
promote national prosperity. The Constitution may be 
changed, but changed to suit the unalterable condition of 
human society. A million may die; their bones will 
not whiten the soil of the worn-out monarchies of the 
world, but will be an impressive lesson to all future gene- 
rations of the blessing of peace. A million more may 



DISCOVERY OF AMERICA. 85 

suffer from broken fortunes, but a hardy people will be 
trained to support the dignity and honor of the nation in 
the future struggles to which we may be doomed with 
the hostile powers of Europe, Out of the storm, above 
the clouds, beneath the depths, the voice, '*I have loved 
thee with an everlasting love," will be heard to cheer 
the erring and the miserable. We have a magnificent 
mission to discharge for humanity, and it will be dis- 
charged in spite of the evil forces. Our laws, our 
schools, our popular legislation will remain. No revolu- 
tion can destroy our literature, our village festivals, our 
boundless aspirations Grive us the conservative influence 
of churches, of philanthropies, of schools, of lectures, of 
books, of town halls, of village gatherings to discuss the 
great problem of government — give us an educated and 
disinterested clergy, and learned teachers, and sympa- 
thetic and philanthropic women — all animated by the 
desire to raise the dignity of m in — all looking to the 
Bible as the thesaurus of all vital truths — all bowing 
down to the majesty of its Author, and I am indifferent, 
comparatively, to those material glories in which we have 
put too great a trust, and which the older nations have 
in common with ourselves. It is onlj as we realize the 
expectations of Christian philosophers that I can see how 
our civilization will be permanent here, or re-act bene- 
ficially on the old world itself. Our brilliant future does- 



86 OUR COUNTRY. 

not rest on works of art and science, grand as they may 
be, so much as on those conservative influences which 
elevate the soul of man, and send peace and hope to 
suffering millions in her favored lands. 

These 7nust be maintained, at any cost, or we share 
the fate of the older nations, and America will prove 
only an extension of what has been tried and failed. 
Columbus, great as he was, simply looked to the triumphs 
of science and the increase of wealth. Isabella had nobler 
views — she thought of the salvation of idolatrous nations. 
We have still higher aspirations. We hope for an 
indefinite elevation of the race itself, under the leader- 
ship of those men whose ancestors forsook their father- 
land to try the grandest experiments of which this earth 
has been the theatre. If we are true to their principles, 
if we seek our welfare in the triumph of virtue and the 
spread of truth, then our experiment will not fail, and 
Columbus will have conferred a boon whose value all 
succeeding generations cannot over estimate — the glory 
and the hope of oppressed and miserable people in every 
corner of this earth. 



THE AMERICAN ENSIGN. 



It has been often objected to the National Flag of our Country, 
that it is meaningless to the Christian, and without moral beauty. 
Other nations have displayed the Cross, and gloried in Christian 
emblems; but young America, it is said, has no such token in her 
banner. 

It does not seem, to the author of the following stanzas, that 
such an objection is well-founded. At all events, he has been 
accustomed to read its emblems with a Christian eye; and the 
verses, written several years ago, which are here presented, are 
an attempt to express in rhyme, the sacred associations, with 
which, to say the least, our National colors are not incapable of 
being ennobled. 

See, from the rampart, how the freshening breeze 
Flings out that flag of splendors, where the Night 

Mingles with flaming Day's, its blazonries, 
And spreads its wavy azure, star-bedight. 

Thy flag, my country! Let those colors toss 
O'er wave or field, o'er steadfast hearts they fly: 

But me delight memorials of the Cross, 
And thy diviner symbols to descry. 



88 OUR COUNTRY. 

What though th' ignoble herd those tokens tell, 
Even as they tell of Heaven no star aright ! 

For lue, high meanings in their broidery dwell, 

And Christ's five wounds each star displays to sight. 

Let millions live beneath that flag enrolled : 
One shall they be, as heaven is one, above, 

While faith is theirs to read, in every fold. 
Signs of their Grod and of Redeeming Love. 

Thy Name is there, oh Thou of many scars, 
Whose many sons like stars shall ever shine; 

Thy Name— oh Star of all the Morning-stars ! 
For many crowns, bright starry crowns are thine. 

And thine the crimson of that snowy field ! 

Those bloody dyes, like scourgings all bespread, 
Tell of the Stripes by which we all are healed. 

And plows that plowed those furrows deep and red. 

Oft o'er the seaman's or the soldier's bier, 

Droops that dear banner for his glittering pall, 

Where every star might seem an angel's tear, 
And every stripe Christ's mercy covering all. 



THE AMERICAN ENSIGN. 89 

Or streaming wildly, from the lifted lance, 
'Mid strife and carnage if that flag be borne, 

Onward and upward, ever in advance, 

Rent, but uostooping — taintless all, though torn: 

Still be it Mercy's ensign! — even there 

As over Ocean's Alps, or calmest bay, 
A sign of promise, opening everywhere 

For Truth and Peace, a free and glorious way. 

And by these tokens conquer! Let it fly 
For Christ a herald, over wave and field: 

His Stars they are who for Mankind did die; 
His glorious Stripes, by which we all are healed. 



8* 



THE NAYAL ACADEMY 

IN SECESSION TIMES. 



The political campaign of 18G0 was not without its 
results at this Institution; for soon after the election of 
President Lincoln became a fixed fact, the agitation 
which pervaded the Southern States extended to those 
midshipmen in the School, who came from the disaffected 
regions. All through the fall, political discussion had 
waxed warmer and warmer, until the usual results at- 
tending such debates began to be very sensibly felt. 
There was a sort of a division into cliques, as is always 
the case, but at this time^ agreement in politics was the 
foundation for all such. As is the case with all Southern 
youth, these midshipmen had become most thoroughly 
indoctrinated with State rights and State sovereignty, 
even to the extent of secession. The wiser of the 
pupils from all parts of the country avoided these 
political discussions, for the distance from a word to 
a blow is but very short. This feeling, existing so 
extensively throughout the School, led all to expect that 



THE NAVAL ACADEMY. 91 

the threatened secession of South Carolina would cause 
the withdrawal of those representing her. Soon came 
the news of the passage of the so called secession ordi- 
nance; and "in obedience to the demands of their State," 
but in violation of their oaths to the United States, now 
followed the resignation of the South Carolinians. Then 
followed in rapid succession the beleaguering of Sumter, 
the cutting off of supplies, the firing upon the Star of 
the West — all which produced more discussion and more 
division of feeling; perhaps I should say more unanimity, 
for the Northern boys were bound more strongly together, 
leaving those of Southern birth to seek companions among 
those of their own sentiments. 

One by one, the States seceded; one after another the 
midshipmen from those States resigned; though some 
desiring rather to remain, waited for positive commands 
from their parents, and they followed in the train of those 
who had preceded. Matters were finally coming to a 
crisis. There was strong talk of the secession of Mary- 
land. Annapolis was by no means free from the taint 
of disloyalty; and it really became necessary to take 
means to prevent the seizure of the Government property. 

Anchored a short distance from the buildings of the 
Academy, lay the School ship, "Old Ironsides;" to her 
were transferred all the heavy guns, save one left in 
the battery, bearing on the channel; then followed the 



92 OUR COUNTRY. 

ammunition and stores. The guns were cast loose day 
and night, ready for instant action. Upon the slightest 
symptoms of a movement, the town could have been 
laid in ashes. On shore, the midshipmen were nightly 
detailed for guard duty; the officers exercised the most 
sleepless vigilance; and yet, amidst all this turmoil and 
excitement, as if loth to yield to the power of Mars, 
Science kept on her steady way; recitations were heard 
as usual, and doctrines of loyalty were inculcated, only 
to be spurned and cast aside by the Southerners, and 
to be pressed closer to the hearts of the Northerners. 
On board the ship the same precautions were observed, 
the same vigilance exercised. The lamented Commander, 
George W. Rogers, one of the brightest ornaments of 
our own, or any service, was determined to give up the 
"Constitution" only with his life. The Superintendent, 
Captain George S. Blake, assisted by Commander C. R. 
P. Rodgers, was unceasing in his efforts to protect the 
honor of the flag, and through God's blessing he was 
successful. Night after night were '%atch and ward 
kept," until at last came the news of the Baltimore riots, 
and then excitement was at a fever beat. Rumors of an 
expected attack came to the ears of those within the 
Academy walls, and all was prepared for the reception of 
the traitors. 



THE NAVAL ACADExMY. 93 

At length, on board the Constitution, came the alarm, 
which soon extended to the shore. In less time than it 
takes to write it, the midshipmen and officers were at 
their posts, awaiting whatever should come next. A 
small vessel is seen coming down the river, gradually 
nearing the ship; closer and closer she approaches, and 
then the hoarse shout of *'Boat Ahoy! " is answered by 
a friendly "Halloo!" and the little craft glides by — all 
thankful that the alarm was but a false one. Then 
words fell thick and fast from the lips of the actors in 
the scene; when suddenly comes a glare of light, and 
from the picket boat at the mouth of the river, up shoots 
a rocket, tracking its way through the air, and giving 
warning of an approaching vessel. Again all is hurry 
and excitement; but there is no confusion, as all stand 
awaiting the second rocket, which is to tell of the ap- 
proach of the vessel seen. But it does not come, and 
then those not on duty return to their quarters, the rest 
remaining to watch with strained eyes the slightest indi- 
cation of an approaching foe. Through the first gray 
dawn of morning, looms up a huge steamer, seemingly 
crowded with men. It is yet too dark to distinguish 
clearly, and impatiently the light of day is looked for. 
Gradually is discovered the "Maryland," but with no 
ensign flying to tell whether she brings friends or foes. 
Then is hoisted the time-honored Stars and Stripes from 



94 OUR COUNTRY. 

the battery and the ship, and at last, floatincr in the 
morning-sheen, the "Maryland" shows forth the Old 
Flag — and we are saved. Communication is at once 
established, and soon the steamer is alongside the ship, 
and we learn the history of the troops on board of her. 
Called from their homes at a moment's notice, they by 
no means presented the appearance of veteran soldiers; 
covered with coal dust, they looked very little like fight- 
ing men; but the Massachusetts Eighth has proved its 
qualities on many a hard fought field — and of those who 
first entered it as three months' men, scarce one but now 
wears shoulder straps earned by valor. 

General Butler, with that energy so characteristic of 
the man, announces his intention of landing his troops 
there, and proceeding to Washington. But first, it is 
necessary to remove "old Ironsides" from dangei; and in 
a very few moments, two companies are at work, removing 
the guns from the "Constitution" to the "Maryland," for 
the good old ship draws too much water to pass over the 
bar. The midshipmen are all sent on shore, with the 
exception of a few retained to assist the officers; and at 
length the anchors are up, and the ship ready to move. 
A strong flood-tide is running, and the "Maryland" does 
not make any headway. An investigation of the fire- 
room, discovers the fact that the firemen are not doing 
their duty, but a very judicious application of revolver 



THE NAVAL ACADEMY. 95 

restores them to their senses, and soon there is steam 
enough. Slowly the ship moves along, and at last the 
bar is reached; and just as all think that she is going 
over safely, she strikes, and is hard aground. Her 
progress is watched with anxiety from the shore, and as 
soon as she is seen to be aground, a boat is sent off to see 
if more help be needed. The "Maryland" makes a 
vigorous effort to haul the ship off, but she herself gets 
aground, and then there is more trouble. All this time, 
the soldiers on board of both vessels are without food, 
for their rations were used up on the previous night. A 
boat is despatched from the "Constitution," containing 
bread, pork and beef, and the famishing men are relieved. 
The tired officers and men at length rest, and wait for 
morning and high water to get off. But during the 
night, there is another alarm, and all work hard to kedge 
the good ship out of danger; but to no purpose, for a 
squall cames up, and their efforts can avail nothing. On 
shore the night is passed in the same anxious state of 
expectancy as before, for the soldiers are aground, and 
there is still fear lest an attack be made. With the 
dawn of morning, comes a tug from Baltimore, bringing 
a bearer of despatches, who is sent to the Academy in a 
small boat, while the tug is used to get the Constitution to 
a safe anchorage. Soon comes in sight another steamer, 
and she is found to be the "Boston," with the New York 



96 OUR COUNTRY. 

Seventh on board. She proceeds to the assistance of the 
"Maryland," and soon both go up to the Academy wharf, 
and the first troops are landed. Then one after another 
pour in vessels of all descriptions, each one bearing raen 
rushing to the defence of their country. The beautiful 
grounds of the Academy become one vast camp, and the 
Academy buildings one huge barrack. The midshipmen 
are relieved from guard duty, and saunter about in par- 
ties looking on the changeful yet picturesque scene. 
Back of the Academy a Pennsylvania Regiment is en- 
deavoring to drill; on the walks, under the trees, on the 
grass, lie scattered soldiers, guns, and all the parapher- 
nalia of warfare. The howitzers belonging to the Aca- 
demy cover the gates, and all entrance is forbidden to 
the crowd without. Here are men writing home, there, 
a group of midshipmen who have resigned, and are 
waiting to go home; all round, the most inextricable 
confusion, while within the Recitation Hall, are gathered 
the officers of the regiments, discussing the state of 
affairs. And so the day passes, all uncertain as to the 
next step, but yet prepared for whatever may come. 
During the night the usual guards are kept, and when 
all others are buried in profound slumber, the sleepless 
sentinels see suddenly flashing out one, two, three, four, 
five rockets, in rapid succession, announcing the arrival 
of that number of vessels. Unfortunately, the signal is 



THE NAVAL ACADEMY. 97 

mistaken, and the long roll beaten, and in a very short 
time, the entire force of midshipmen and soldiers is under 
arms. After waiting for some time, an explanation is 
given, and all allowed once more to return to their 
dreams. At daylight, all are roused again, and the five 
vessels which had arrived during the night, come up to 
the wharf and discharge their cargoes of living freight. 
During the forenoon the Seventh New York is drilled, 
and in the afternoon the midshipmen go through their 
evolutions, much to the delight of the Seventh who 
applaud most vigorously their double quick; for that is 
what the corps of midshipmen always excel in. Another 
night of watching and waiting. In the early morning the 
Seventh New York and Eighth Massachusetts, set out 
for Washington. The lamented Theodore Winthrop has 
detailed that march, and it needs no recounting here. 
Meanwhile, despatches come from Washington. The 
midshipmen are to be transferred to the "Constitution," 
and to sail for New York, there to await further orders. 
The order is given, and the packing is commenced. 
Those who have resigned, go from one room to another to 
bid farewell to their classmates and friends. It is a 
gloomy scene. All are sad at leaving the sheltering 
walls of their Alma Mater. Finally, all is completed, the 
baggage is sent on board, the boat provided, and for the 
last time the Battalion is formed. Four abreast, the 
9 



98 OUR COUNTRY. 

departing midshipmen march down the walk, lined on 
either side with spectators to the wharf. Then occurs 
the most afifecting scene of all; realizing that they are 
leaving forever the place which had been home to them 
for so long; each one dares not look another in the face 
for fear that the unbidden tears will come. And when 
Captain Rodgers attempts to address them, he finds it 
impossible. His heart is too full for utterance; he can 
only say, pointing to the Stars and Stripes floating 
over his head, ^ 'Stand by the Flag, young gentlemen ! 
Stand by the Flag !" And there is not a dry eye among 
those standing around; all are alike moved to tears. 
Then one by one the students go on board, and as the 
sun sinks in the west, all take a last look at the scene 
they have loved so well — and the Naval Academy at 
Annapolis, is no more. 

Of those who then left, some have fallen in defence of 
their flag, and all are scattered throughout the various 
naval stations. Let us all hope that when peace shall 
come, the Academy may be restored to its original place, 
a fit monument of the patriotism of its founder, one of 
our country's noblest sons. 



NATIONAL HYMN 



God save America ! 

God grant our standard may 

Where e'er it wave ; 
Follow the just and right, 
Foremost be in the fight, 
And glorious still in might 

Our own to save. 
Chorus. — Father Almighty! 
Humbly, we crave, 
Save thou America, 
Our country save ! 

God keep America I 

Of nations great and free 

Man's noblest friend ; 
Still with the ocean bound 
Our continent around, 
Each State in place be found, 

Till time shall end. 
Chorus. — Father Almighty, etc. 



100 OUR COUNTRY. 

God bless America! 
As in our Father's day, 

So evermore. 
God grant all discords cease, 
Kind brotherhood's increase, 
And truth and love breathe peace 

From shore to shore. 
Chorus. — Father Almighty, etc. 

Washington ! * to thee 
Our country's Father, we 

Hallow this day; 
Our gratitude we prove 
Singing the song you love, 
join us from above ! 

God save America ! 
Chorus. — Father Almighty, etc. 



Stanza to be added on Washington's birth-day. 



TO WHAT PURPOSE IS THIS WASTE? 



In the material universe there is no waste. Nature 
hoards and uses over again the discarded portions of 
every organism, and the same particles in altered forms 
have been doing perpetual service from the beginning 
until now. No force is lost, — that which seems to spend 
itself is only transmuted, and under another name or 
aspect, still works on. In the world of resolves, deeds 
and activities, there is no waste of any thing good, — what 
seems lost is sown; what seems squandered is put at 
interest; what seems thrown away brings accumulating 
revenue. When Judas asked the question which we 
have taken for our motto, he not only wanted the money; 
but in his sordid soul he no doubt sincerely thought that 
the pouring of that precious unguent on the Saviour's 
head was a silly, senseless waste, and for once he was 
honest when he complained of it. But so far from being 
wasted, it is not spent yet. The odor of the ointment 
then only filled the house, — it now fills all Christendom. 
It is the divinely hallowed type and exemplar of all con- 
9* 



102 OUR COUNTRY. 

siderate kindness, — of the aesthetic element that forms 
an essential, and a large part in all real charity, — of the 
love which contents not itself with the bare supply of 
bodily wants, but ministers to the tastes, the sensibilities, 
the heart needs of its beneficiaries. 

The lesson of this transaction is the one great lesson 
for our people now. Judas has, ever since the rebellion 
began, been repeating his old question, and he has 
induced not a few of the timid, anxious, desponding, yet 
loyal f"\ends of the country to ask it with him. Let us 
answer it, if we can, so as to refute him and to encourage 
them. 

"To what purpose is this waste?" If for nothing else, 
it has been essential, in order to prevent greater waste. 
Had the alternative at the outset been this long and 
disastrous conflict, or the mere division of the Union, 
we can conceive that a loyal patriotism might in sorrow 
have elected the latter as the least of the two evils. So 
thought and felt many who have never bated one jot of 
faith or hope in the common cause. But the alternative 
was the conflict or entire disintegration. The national 
bond was not strong enough to bear the fracture without 
being utterly dissolved. Not only between North and 
South, but between section and section, even in some 
cases between adjacent States, the dissilient exceeded the 
centralizing tendencies. Our General Government had 



WHY THIS WASTE. 103 

made itself keenly felt in the faults and errors of its 
administrators, while its functions of defence and pro- 
tection, its agencies for promoting the general prosperity, 
had been exerted so unobtrusively, and had so identified 
themselves with the natural course of civic life, that we 
were hardly aware that it did anything for us. Had it 
effected what it did with a showy array of instrument- 
alities and a heavy taxation, we should have recognized 
it as the best government upon earth; but because — still 
better — it worked almost unseen and unfelt, our recogni- 
tion of it was faint, our attachment to it feeble; — while, 
the circle once broken, there were divergent sympathies 
and interests enough to have resolved us into half a score 
of nationalities, each too feeble to secure tranquility 
within or peace without, to establish protection for its 
industry or its commerce^ or to maintain its rights, if so 
much as to be admitted to a voice in the forum of the 
nations. Our arms, even if they will not bring back, 
(as we doubt not they will,) the recreant States, have at 
least made a nation of those that remain. These States 
have now the sacred bond of common losses, sufferings, 
burdens and sorrows. Their citizens have stood and 
fallen in battle side by side. They have made like 
sacrifices for the cause of all. They have invested in 
the Union their treasure, their philanthropy, their honor, 
their best blood. It is a co-partnership from which, 



104 OUR COUNTRY. 

come what may, neither member has any longer the 
moral ability to withdraw. 

Passing from this general view, let us consider for a 
moment the seeming waste of treasure in the war. We 
are aware that this has not been felt as was apprehended, 
that very many have been really and greatly enriched; 
nay, that the reputed aggregate wealth of many sections 
of the country was never so great as at the present 
moment. But this increased aggregate is apparent, not 
actual, — resulting, in part, from the fact that the credit 
of the Government has replaced the treasure spent by 
drafts on posterity, and in part from our reckoning our 
property and gains in a depreciated currency. It were 
well for us if the cost of the war bore on us with a more 
sensible pressure. Yet the pressure has been felt by not 
a few, — by some, in heavy personal losses due to this 
cause alone; by many, in a vague and fearful uncertainty 
as to the future of business and commerce; and by very 
many of moderate means, in free-will offerings beyond 
their easy ability for the comfort of the army and for the 
relief of the sick and wounded. But in all this, so far 
as we have felt it, we have gained, not lost. We have 
not thrown away our money, but have made the best 
possible investment of it in a revenue of conscious pa- 
triotism which could not have been ours without sacri- 
fice, — in a love for liberal institutions and the cause of 



WHY THIS WASTE. 105 

universal freedom, which is well worth the heaviest price 
we can pay, in the blessing of those ready to perish, and 
of their God and ours. David, on a memorable occasion, 
insisted on buying the threshing-floor of Araunah, the 
Jebusite, as a place of sacrifice, sayings "Neither will I 
offer burnt offerings to the Lord of that which doth cost 
me nothing." Cost is not only the measure of value, — 
it creates value. The greater the price we pay, the more 
dearly cherished, the more sacredly guarded will be the 
liberty and the peace we win; and in the debt we shall 
bequeath to our children and our children's children, we 
are pledging in advance their loyalty, their vigilance and 
fidelity as citizens, their enduring attachment to the 
institutions which we shall transmit to their keeping. 

Like considerations, and others of a kindred nature, 
apply to the untold expenditure of time, and patient toil 
bestowed on the country's cause by the women of our 
land, and even by children of tender years. This is no 
waste, but an unspeakable gain. It has deepened the 
fountains of fervent patriotism in the hearts whence flow 
the earliest and most enduring sentiments that shape the 
character. The country which, wives, mothers, and 
sisters have so largely aided in saving, is henceforward 
associated in their religion with the most sacred names 
and themes. Loyal maxims will blend with the lessons of 
domestic piety. Our homes will be nurseries of patriotic 



106 OUR COUNTRY. 

feeling, and the guardians of their purity; the priestesses 
at their sacred altars, will keep watch and ward over the 
republic, and transmit in peaceful years the pure love of 
country kindled in strife and violence. Then too, can 
we over-estimate the self-denial, the habit of continuous 
industry, the wise forethought, the administrative ability 
developed in thousands whose destiny had seemed that 
not of ministering, but of being ministered unto; and who, 
but for times like these, would never have known the 
blessing of a weighty charge, the wealth of power and 
faculty, sympathy and love, that grows from generous 
toil and sacrifice? 

But what shall we say of the fearful loss of life, — 
signal, even less for the number of victims than for the 
unprecedented proportion of those eminent for genius, 
excellence and promise. In numerous instances, the 
fatal lot has fallen on the confessedly noblest inheritor of 
a distinguished name, on the prime hope and joy of a 
large circle of kindred, on the very youth who seemed the 
born and designated exemplars and leaders in all that 
is beautiful in character, graceful in attainment, and 
honorable in deed. Yet, with a profound sense of all 
that the living and the dead have suffered, with the most 
tender sympathy with those whose choicest treasures have 
been laid on the sacrificial pile, we would say emphati- 
cally, this is not our loss, so much as our gain. To be 



WHY THIS WASTE. 107 

sure, in individual affection, the void places will still 
remain void; in the nearer circle of home-love, none can 
stand where the departed stood; to our fond admiration, 
no new luminaries can reflect the specific light-beams of 
our own bright, particular stars. Yet we are experiencing 
the multiform fulfilment of those typical words, "Except 
a corn of wheat fall into the ground and die, it abideth 
alone; but if it die, it bringeth forth much fruit." The 
virtues and graces which, living, might have been rejoiced 
in, yet not copied, which, perhaps^ because they inspired 
so much confidence, might have weakened in some minds 
the sense of their own kindred mission and e(j[ual respon- 
sibility, by death are quickened into a diffusive life. 
The martyr-blood has become the seed of patriotism, and 
of civic and social virtue. The faithful that have fallen 
have bequeathed their charge and trust to those who 
would not have shared it with them living. A higher 
tone of manhood, a more strenuous purpose, a nobler 
aim, a loftier moral sentiment has been breathed largely 
into our young men. The elements of national greatness, 
which reside wholly in individual character, have been 
stimulated through the swift ministers of death, into rapid 
yet healthy growth; and, with the multitudes that have 
fallen, there are at this moment more than ever before 
of those in opening manhood, or in the prime of their 
maturity, who are fitted to be the strong pillars of the 



108 OUR COUNTRY. 

state, who are reproducing all that was noblest and best 
in the Fathers of our Country, and whose loyalty has 
been sealed and pledged in the solemn sacrament by 
which they have entered into the places of the dying, and 
have taken from their lips the parting charge that the 
republic receive no detriment. 



THE 



THREE ERAS of the UNITED STATES. 



AS IT WAS. 
Born to grow up rich and free. 

Suffering neither stint nor care, 
Standing at their mother's knee, 

— Who so happy as these are ? 

AS IT IS. 
Did you never chance to see 

One young flushed and angry brother, 
("Cause he wouldn't let me be,") 

Pitching hot into the other? 

AS IT SHALL BE. 
Every trace of childish passion 

From their brows, the mother wipes; 
As she smooths, in nightly fashion. 

Their coverlet of Stars and Stripes. 



10 



A \^RECKER AMONG THF SKMINOLKS; 

AN EPISODE OF THE FLORIDA WAR. 



The Florida War, as a conflict with savages in which 
but little glory was to be gained while great hardships 
were to be endured, was admirably calculated to bring 
out the daring characteristics of our countrymen. It is a 
large field of unwritten romance. 

About the time when Dade's massacre gave the first 
token of sanguinary warfare, I visited St. Augustine with 
a sick friend, and passed from that balmy region to 
Key West with the hope of prolonging a cherished life 
which was flickering in the socket. I had hardly reached 
the island, so renowned in the annals of marine disaster, 
when the news of the fearful murder of our oflicers and 
soldiers was rapidly followed by accounts of the ravages 
committed by the Indians throughout the peninsula, 
where solitary settlers had begun the task of redeeming 
the wilderness. One of the most tragic of these afl'airs, 
was the massacre of the Keeper of the Cape Florida Light 
House. It was appalling, not only on account of the sad 



A WRECKER AMONG THE SEMINOLES. Ill 

fate of the keeper and his family, but because it extin- 
guished a beacon whose absence might betray many a 
coaster that drifted, during the night, along the perilous 
breakers. Indeed, no greater danger is known to our 
seamen than the sudden or unexpected absence of one of 
those great watch-fires which the government has estab- 
lished for the protection of our commerce. 

It would be hard to imagine or describe a more desolate 
spot than Cape Florida, nor were its ordinary loneliness 
and hazards diminished by the savage war which sur- 
rounded it landward, while the sea, surging and howling 
over its coral reefs, hemmed it in toward the east. The 
Light House of Cape Florida, and in fact, the Cape 
itself, are not situated on the main but on an island, in 
Biscayne Bay. Indeed, it was not until quite recently, 
that our surveyors ascertained accurately what was island, 
swamp, flat^ key, shoal or reef, on the borders of that 
debateable land which is now known as "the everglades" 
of Florida, It is extremely difficult to define outlines in 
such a mesh of coral and mangroves. The coast between 
Cape Florida and Cape Sable is better marked by its 
steep and continuous bluffs, while the intervening shoals 
are studded with islands, which, at times, form an 
uninterrupted chain, and at others break into archipelagos 
of innumerable islets, so closely interwoven as to be 
almost impenetrable in their labyrithine folds. From the 



112 OUR COUNTRY. 

Tortugas in the Gulf, the Keys bend in a crescent till 
they converge towards the mainland at Cape Florida, in 
the Atlantic, so that the light on this point becomes the 
warder of the mariner as he approaches those perilous 
fangs of the Mexican Gulf, which are always gnashing 
and foaming for their prey. 

Key West was, of course, soon alive with interest 
when it became rumored that the keeper of so important 
a point was, in all likelihood, no longer among the living. 
It is probable, that many a wrecker's heart beat high 
with hope, as he dreamed of the harvest he might shortly 
reap from the bristling reef. Yet, there were honest 
men, also, on the island; and, among them, there 
happened to be a distinguished naval commander, who 
had looked into Key West, to get tidings from the 
imperiled main. 

This officer no sooner heard of the keeper's fate, than 
he began to cast about among the "forlorn hopes" of the 
island for some resolute person, who, for a suitable 
recompense, would venture to rekindle the extinguished 
light 

For several days, no one responded to the summons. 
At last a volunteer appeared on the quarter deck of the 
cruiser, and accepted the service, provided he might be 
allowed a favorite negro as companion in the enterprise. 
The stranger was an old and well known wrecker on the 



A WRECKER AMONG THE SEMINOLES. 113 

Key, whose exploits in company with his sable comrade, 
had won for him a reputation of extraordinary hardihood. 
The black was his property, and perhaps, the only 
possession with which he was encumbered in the \v:iy of 
worldly goods. 

It may readily be imagined that not the sliLihtest 
objection was made to the wrecker's demand. The 
captain was glad to secure any one who would venture to 
the Cape. A reward was promised to the negro as well 
as to the white man, and in a very short time the vessel's 
launch was fitted out for the expedition; in charge of a 
midshipman with a well armed crew. 

Mitchell, the Key West wrecker, was a compact, 
slim, wiry, man, — case-hardened by long exposure to his 
dangerous work. His head was one of those gnarled 
knobs, whose red and yellow skin, like wrinkled parch- 
ment, was a map of his weather-beaten life. In every 
way, he was just such a person as one would naturally 
picture a regular "Key-Wester," whose flesh and sinews 
had been tanned and tempered for thirty years by the 
surf and sun of the Florida Reef. Except in complexion, 
the negro, in every respect, formed a counterpart of his 
master, and was remarkable for a blended companionship 
and obedience, which really made him a sort of additional 
member of Mitchell's body. 
10* 



114 OUR COUNTRY. 

The reef was soon coasted by the boatmen and Cape 
Florida reached. The story that alarmed and aroused 
the people of Key West proved true. The keeper and 
his family were indeed destroyed ! Their dwelling was 
a wreck, and every vestige of its inmates and property 
gone As fate would have it, however, the Light House 
itself was still unharmed, and its«burners, reflectors, and 
even the oil, were entirely adequate for all requirements. 
A reconnoissance was quickly made of all the hiding 
places wherein the enemy might lurk, and it was soon 
agreed that the savages, after satiating their passion, 
had, in all likelihood, departed for the main. Accord- 
ingly, Mitchell and his companion at once proceeded to 
their quarters, and judging that the light-house would 
unquestionably prove their stoutest fortress in case of 
assault, they resolved not to occupy the desolate dwelling 
but to ensconce themselves within the tower. An abun- 
dant supply of balls, powder, weapons, water and provi- 
sions was given to the adventurers, who, for their greater 
safety, not only barricaded the doors of the light-house 
within, but caused the entrance to be as effectually 
walled up as the materials at hand from the dwelling 
would allow. This accomplished, the naval escort went 
away and left the wrecker and his slave to their fate. 

For some days, all went well with the solitary adven- 
turers on their lonely island. But it was not long before 



A WRECKER AMONG THE SEMINOLES. 115 

the savages on the main perceived the rekindled beacon 
flaiuini^^ out its luminous message over the sea. One day, 
Mitchell observed a canoe stealing across the bay, with a 
single Indian, in the direction of his island. That night, 
as usual, he lighted the lamps and kept a wary watch, 
more however, with his ears than his eyes: — it would 
have been imprudent to risk the exposure of his person 
with but two to guard the post. 

The night and the following day passed without assault. 
On the succeeding evening, however, as he kindled his 
watch-fires in the lantern, a ball shivered a pane of glass 
at his back, and, whistling by his ear, destroyed one of 
the lamps. Mitchell dipped instantly below the screen 
of the parapet wall, and reaching a torch aloft, com- 
pleted his duty in spite of the warning. 

There was now no longer any doubt that the spy who 
had been seen coming from the mainland in his canoe had 
borne back the news after reconnoitering the tower, and 
that, still uncertain how many whites were shut up 
within it, the savages were resolved to pick them off in 
detail after dark, as they attempted to kindle the light. 
It will surely be believed that Mitchell and Dick did 
not take turns in mounting guard that night. Indeed, 
Mitchell knew perfectly well that it would be worse than 
useless to entrust his slave with a prolonged watch in an 
hour of such imminent peril, for the habitual drowsiness 



116 OUR COUNTRY. 

of his race would have lulled him to sleep even if a battle 
were raging. 

But there was no night attack, nor was there a vestige 
on the following day, — until the afternoon, — of a human 
being, either about the bushes, on the bay, or among the 
ruins of the house. During the morning, Mitchell and 
the black slept for a couple of hours, lying down within 
the base of the tower, directly in front of the door, so 
that if any attempt at breaking in should be made, they 
would be instantly aroused. Such was the toughness of 
their nerves or their exhaustion from previous vigils, 
that they slept as soundly as if they were rocked in a 
wrecking-clipper "laying to" snugly during a gale. 

But things changed in the afternoon. Mitchell and 
his slave had not exposed their persons on the top of the 
tower, or, indeed, in any way, since the ball whistled by 
the old man's ear; yet they took advantage of one of the 
narrow slits or embrasures in the wall, designed to light 
the spiral wooden staircase, to reconnoiter the surround- 
ing country. It was from this place that the wrecker, 
about one o'clock, detected a couple of red-skins peering 
cautiously above the sill of a window in the neighbor- 
ing dwelling-house. The weather was extremely bad. 
A stiff north eastern gale was blowing from the sea, 
and as the frequent squalls of rain increased, Mitchell 
observed that the two Indians became more careless and 



A WRECKER AMONG THE SEMINOLES. 117 

remained longer exposed at the windows. He could not, 
however, determine whether they had companions con- 
cealed within, or whether they were only scouts for a 
body that might be hard by in ambush. 

,,Well, Dick," said Mitchell, "these devils seem as 
fixed as hulks in the sand ! I wonder if they're hatchin' 
turtle-eggs? How would it do, old nigger, if you popped 
at one while I tried 't'other." 

"Dat's percisely what I was gwyne for to think myself, 
massa Johnny!" replied the darkey, with a chuckle. 

"Of course, you eternal swamp, you're always sure to 
have thought of what I've been thinkin, and 'termined to 
do what I've 'termined to do. Never mind boy, let's 
try; — but avast there a bit, till the devils make their next 
dive, so that when they come up agin we'll be sartin to 
have another settin' match of five minutes; — then's our 
time to let drive at 'em. Look out for the starboard 
ing'n, Dick, and I'll take care of the port one. Keep 
jour muzzle well inside the winder. Es your hand aint 
half es steddy es mine, lay your muskit on the sill, 
while I hold my rifle at the top. Down, Dick, down, 
I tell ye ; — quick ! — there they come ! " 

There was a moment of breathless silence, broken 
only by the howl of a fresh squall from the sea, during 
which the two savages looked about quite unconcernedly. 



118 OUK COUNTRY. 

"Now's your sorts, Dick; now's your sorts, old fellow! 
Look sharp and steddy at the starboard devil, aud git 
your aim !" 

"Yes, massa!" 

"Hev' you got him?" 

"Sure and sartin', Massa!" 

"But don't fire till I whistle, — then bl;ize away like 
thunder." 

There was another interval of silence, till Mitchell's 
soft whistle was succeeded by a simultaneous flash of 
musket and rifle, and in a moment the two savages 
sprang into the air with a yell, and fell dead in their 
tracks ! 

"Them's done for eney how!" exclaimed the old 
wrecker; "and now let's see who'll come to the berryin'!" 

"Dive^ Dick, dive, you sarpint, and load like a shark, 
while I watch 'em!" 

Hardly were the words uttered, when half a dozen 
stalwart red-skins rushed from within the house to the • 
bodies of their slaughtered comrades, and dragged them 
from the window. 

"Quick, boy, — are you loaded?" 

"God a'mighty, massa, what you think I made of?" 

"Hurry up, hurry up, you infernal nigger!" shouted 
Mitchell, restless with impatience, and in a jiffy he was 
again in possession of his rifle. 



A WRECKER AMONG THE SEMINOLES. 119 

"Mark your iugin, Dick; — crack when I tell ye! 
Now then, — go it!" 

Whiz went the balls, with as sure an aim as in the 
first instance, killing one of the reinforcement and 
wounding another. 

But, with this discharge, Mitchell judged that as the 
smoke from the embrasure must disclose the spot whence 
the fatal missiles issued, it would be best not to repeat 
the fire. 

Accordingly, with the negro in his grasp, he leaped 
from the slit as soon as he saw the result. And well was 
it that he did so, for hardly were they safe, when a ball 
and an arrow fell within the tower through the aperture, 
while a couple of shots might have been heard spending 
their ineffectual balls on the splintered sides of the em- 
brasure. 

It may be said that Mitchell was unwise in his attack 
on the savages, and that he would have acted more 
discreetly by awaiting an assault from them. Be that 
as it may, the wrecker had two objects in view, and he 
gained them both. He was anxious to know the absolute 
force of his enemy, and at the same time, he wished to 
weaken or cripple the foe. The war party had evidently 
consisted of eight, four of whom were "done for." Had 
the force been more numerous or overwhelmning, the 



120 OUR COUNTRY. 

wrecker's fate was evident, but with four only to contend 
against, bis spirits quickly rallied. 

Tbe besieged remained for a considerable time, not 
only motionless but silent, when Mitchell, finding that 
shots at the slit were not repeated, crept up the stairs 
to the embrasure with five additional muskets which he 
had loaded in the interval, and, cocking all, laid them as 
close as he could, with their muzzles to the edge of the 
external wall, and yet within the screen of the sill. He 
then leaned downward over the top of the slit, and by 
diving his head rapidly below it, took glimpses of the 
field of action. This manoeuvre he repeated several 
times before . he descried any evidence of life withyi the 
house. At last an unmistakeable sound, heard so often 
in Florida, within the next three years, broke from the 
ruined dwelling, — it was the war-whoop ! 

"To your gun, Dick^ and mind what I tell ye!" 
With this, rifle in hand, he commenced a series of dives 
beneath the embrasure's lintel; — but, for a while, no 
indians appeared. Five minutes, however, did not 
elapse before some jets of flame spirted from an un- 
noticed crack in the wall of the house, followed by several 
balls in the embrasure; and instantly, with a whoop, the 
remaining savages, stripped to their skins, and armed 
with guns and tomahawks, rushed towards the barricaded 
door. 



A WRECKER AMONG THE SEMINOLES. 121 

"At'em, Dick," — shouted the wrecker,— at'em as they 
run; — and bhize away with all seveu barrels at the 
devils!" 

Yet, rapid and careful as Mitchell had been throughout 
his earlier movements, all the shots on this occasion were 
unavailing against the indians, who, bounding like deer 
across the space between the house and tower, were soon 
beneath its walls, and of course entirely screened by 
them from the risk of bullets from the embrasures above. 
Neither Mitchell nor his slave dared ascend the light- 
house and shoot from the parapet; so that the volley 
from the windows only served to deceive the savages 
as to the number who might be hidden within the 
walls. But it was not long before the sound of blows 
at the door gave token of the indians' design and pro- 
gress. All that could now be done for the preserva- 
tion of life was to meet the savages, singly if possible, 
as they edged their way up the spiral staircase, and to 
be in advance of them either in firing or with the knife. 
Accordingly, Mitchell loaded all the weapons carefully, 
and ordered Dick to carry them, with an axe, a bag of 
balls, and a keg of powder, to the highest interior plat- 
form of the stairway. 

It was an anxious time. For men who were not as 
familiar with life's risks on the surf of the Florida reef — 
a surf and reef that are as perilous as the savages whose 
11 



122 OUR COUNTRY. 

land they guarded, — the half hour would have been 
insupportable before the blows ceased and the voices of 
the savages were heard rising through the tube of the 
tower. The Indians were evidently in anxious and even 
angry deliberation. After awhile, all was still again. 
There were neither blows nor talk. What did it mean ? 
What where they about? Why did they not come with 
a yell and a rush? Were they stealing, cat like, up the 
stairs? Should he descend to meet them? Could he 
safely revisit the embrasure and survey the field? 

"No," — said patience; — "wait !" 

By this time the sun was sinking. Nearly an hour 
must have elapsed since the first cessation of noise, yet 
no sign of life or motion was discernible at the base of the 
tower or its neighborhood. Mitchell was quite as still 
as the enemy, while Dick, propped against the wall, sat 
with his lips pouting, and his eyes slowly opening and 
shutting, till, at last, the stolid negro fairly nodded with 
sleep ! 

Ever and anon the wrecker put his ear to the planks 
to listen if they conveyed the least creak of a footstep. 
At length a low grunt and a rapid sniffling of his nostrils 
aroused the sleeper, as Mitchell scented the odor of 
smoke. 

The stratagem instantly flashed across his mind — 
Doubtful of the white man's numbers and of the success 



A WRECKER AMONG THE SEMINOLES. 123 

with which a winding stair might be ascended against an 
unknown and dangerous foe, the indians had fired the 
frame-work of the wooden steps ! 

"And now, Dick," whispered the weather-beaten sailor, 
"the worst's come to the worst at last. They're afeared 
to fight us, nigger, and we'er to be burnt alive! Do ye 
hear that?" 

"Well, massa, what mus' we do to help it?" 

"Nothing, Dick, nothin'; least-ways, that is to say, 
Dick, you aint to do nothin'. They aint a goin' to come 
up here, anyhow; that's sartin'; and another thing's just 
es sartin, which is, that I aint a goin' down stairs to them! 
Now, let's wait and see what'll turn up next. When you 
don't know what to do, Dick, never do nothin' — that's 
always my rule, and its a fool that don't foUer it ! Hold 
your tongue and go sleep agin." 

And so, for quite a quarter of an hour, the imprisoned 
twain sat like statues, till the smoke began to pour up so 
densely that respiration became almost impossible. There 
was no escape for the vapor through the lantern. But 
this was quickly remedied; for, keeping his head within 
the screening summit of the tower, with a single circular 
sweep of his axe, Mitchell shivered the glasses and gave 
vent to the smoke. At the same time, he thrust the 
weapons and keg of powder on the external promenade 



124 OUR COUNTRY. 

gallery or balcony, which was guarded by an iron rail and 
a very thick oaken washboard at its base. 

The want of sufficient draft for the smoke had hitherto 
prevented the fire from burning with the rapidity that 
might have been expected; but as soon as the lantern was 
gone, the crackling timbers below gave token that the fire 
was under full headway and the light-house converted 
into a chimney ! 

"And now I must meet itf^ said Mitchell sharply, as 
he arose; "but do you set still, Dick, where you are, 
while. I cut away the steps below for fifteen feet or so, 
and we'll have the platform above to lie down on, and be 
es safe es on a raft when the hull's foundered !" 

A couple of leaps took the wrecker to his post below, 
and instantly his sturdy strokes with the axe were heard 
upon the splintering timbers. Standing above, he cut 
away step after step beneath him as he retreated upwards, 
pitching the untouched planks in the fire, and thus estab- 
lishing a vacuum between the summit and the blazing 
mass in the base. It did not require much time for him 
to clear eight or ten feet of the tower, but unfortunately, 
the increased fire augmented the heat and smoke to such 
a degree, that he could no longer continue his work or 
remain within the tower. Indeed, our hero had already 
fought the element longer than he ought to have done. 
As he reached the platform, leaving four or five of the 



A WRECKER AMONG THE SEMINOLES. 125 

last steps still unhewn, he sank exhausted on the base of 
the screened balcony, but, luckily, as he fell to windward, 
the torrent of vapor that rushed up the tower was drifted 
away from him by the gale, leaving nothing but the pure 
sea wind for his refreshment. To this spot, the negro 
had already preceded him, and, stretched flat on his back, 
was invisible from the outside. 

Yet hardly had Mitchell revived from his exhaustion, 
when he perceived that their danger was no longer from 
suffocation, but that the intense heat from the fuel below 
had kindled the dry fragments of the upper steps which 
he had been unable to cut away, and that the fiery 
tongues were already beginning to lick the edges of the 
boards. The flame was within eight feet of him, while 
by his side was the keg of powder ! 

"It's awful bad, boy, any way you look at it!" said 
the wrecker. 

"Mighty awful, massa," echoed the negro. 

"Hold on where you are, Dick, and don't show your 
black muzzle over the parapet." 

"But what are you gwyne to do wid de powder, massa, 
when the fire gits up here, right 'long side ob us?" 

"Grod knows, Dick, God knows! Pitch it over to the 
red-skins, perhaps — but not till the last moment; — never 
give powder to an ingin' till you can't help it." 



11* 



126 OUR COUNTRY. 

M en n while, the fiery serpent wound his spiral way up 
the remaining stairs, and began to lay its blazing head 
upon the platform. 

"Now den, massa, pitch him over, pitch him over," 
said the slave with quick, anxious, nervous utterance, — 
pointing to the keg, — "pitch him over to the injins, — for 
God-a-mighty's sake." 

"Hush, man, I tell ye ! Lay still, don't stir for your 
life !" as he saw the flames begin to crawl and crackle in 
the direction of the powder. "Lay still, Dick, I say, 
like a man, till the last moment. One way or 'tother, 
'twill soon be over, — for we've nothing to do but to leap 
over the wall, break our necks and be scalped, — or 
tumble into the tower and be burnt alive! Lay still, 
Dick, I say again, and take it like a man !" 

But Dick, who had always obeyed his master implicitly 
in every emergency by sea and land, had never before 
encountered the double perils of fire and gunpowder. 
Although he remained quiet as long as ordinary flesh 
and blood would allow in such a trial, yet, at last, the 
nervousness of frail humanity began to get the mastery, 
till drawing himself up into the smallest possible space, 
and crawling to the remotest possible distance from the 
keg, he suddenly sprang to his feet on the edge of the 
parapet, clinging with a convulsive hysterical grasp to 
the iron rail of the guard. 



A WRECKER AMONG THE SEMINOLES. 127 

He could not have been half a minute in this exposed 
posture before a ball through the head tumbled his corpse 
on the balcony ! 

"What's the use of it — what's the use of it;" muttered 
Mitchell, through his teeth, as he saw his slave fall. 
•'Why, in the name of all the devils, didn't you lay still 
as I told ye?" 

"Over with ye!" shouted the wrecker, at the top of 
his voice, as with a wild, sudden impulse — half passion 
half despair — he pushed the keg from him towards the 
centre of the burning aperture, and with closed eyes, 
grating teeth and clenched hands, held on to the bottom 
of the balcony, as he heard the heavy mass plunging 
downward through the tower, till with a mashing sound, 
it fell within the base. 

He heard no more. He heard no explosion; he felt no 
concussion. How long, after the deafening sound that 
rent the air, he continued utterly insensible, I do not 
know. It may have been a few hours, or it may have 
been a whole day. The recovery from this profound 
stupor was gradual. At first, he seemed to be half 
awake, conscious of an oppressive difficulty in breathing, 
and after lying in this semi-torpor for a considerable time, 
he at last became fully aware of his position, though his 
muscles were entirely incapable of motion. He was 
thoroughly drenched with rain and chilled with cold, 



128 OUR COUNTRY. 

while the bright moon was shining over him from the 
mild winter sky of Florida. 

It was long before Mitchell could divest himself of the 
idea that he had become drowsy while tending his lamps 
at night, and, falling asleep on the balcony, had become 
the victim of a dream whose horrid incidents slowly 
recurred and rose up like a dreadful tragedy in his 
memory. He looked around, and every vestige of the 
lantern was gone, while a black gulf yawned beside him, 
disclosing the whole of the scorched and riven interior. 
The ledge of the upper balcony, on which he rested, was 
all that remained except the walls of the tower ! 

He remembered Dick, and, as the first effort over his 
regained muscular control, put forth a hand to feel for the 
negro and thus assure himself of the truth or fiction of 
the drama. He touched the body — it was cold. He 
strove to rouse it, — it was rigid as iron. He crawled to 
listen for breath or a beating heart, — the foulest odors 
saluted his nostrils. It was corruption! His trance 
must have lasted over twenty-four hours. 

Strange as were the scenes through which he had 
passed, the doubt that next bewildered him arose from 
the conviction that it was impossible for him to he alive 
after the explosion of the powder in the tower, or that the 
tower itself could have resisted the effect of so tremendous 
a discharge. 



A WRECKER AMONG THE SEMINOLES. 129 

Rude as was the wrecker's mind, all these thoughts 
pressed upou or passed athwart it. What miracle had 
preserved him? Were such things possible? Was he 
alive, or was this — death? 

He bit his arm to assure himself of existence; and in 
a moment the whole current of his thought was changed. 
He became a prey to the most horrible pangs of hunger 
and freaks of fancy, until by degrees, the world was 
again a blank to him and the wrecker fainted. 

Mitchell had no distinct recollection of anything that 
occurred during the delirium which no doubt supervened 
when he was seized by the pangs of hunger. When the 
fresh sea wind revived him from the swoon, he found 
himself lying on the body of his dead menial, and at 
once crept back to his former lair on the ledge of the 
parapet. All craving of the stomach for food was gone, 
but a low fever had followed the chill and hunger. As 
the night wore on, clouds drifted up again from the sea, 
and for more than an hour before daylight, it rained in 
hard squalls so as to drench him thoroughly and subdue 
his blood. 

At sunrise there was but a single line of saffron light 
on the horizon, in which the orb rested a few moments 
like a ball of fire, and then disappeared behind the lid 
of leaden clouds that covered the blackened sea like a 
pall. Athwart that streak, relieved against the sky, 



130 



OUR COUNTRY 



appeared the masts of several vessels skirting the reef. 
The love of life aod hope of succor sprang once more 
strongly in his heart, but even had prudence permitted 
him to disclose his person or hoist a signal, the strangers 
were too distant to be reached by his lonely beacon. He 
remembers that, at this time, he was revolving in his 
mind the propriety of looking over the screen of the 
balcony, when a sudden languor and drowsiness stole 
over him, the result perhaps of his ebbing fever, — and 
he fell into a profound sleep. 

It was mid-day before he awoke. The storm, portended 
by the dawn, bad been swept away by a smart nor'-wester, 
and the sun shone sharply from the zenith. When he 
awoke this time it was not with the feeble consciousness 
of his first restoration. He stirred as from refreshing 
sleep, and though the sun had dried his raiment and 
almost scorched his skin, the weather-beaten sailor was 
too familiar with Floridian skies to be harmed by the 
burning rays. 

Once more, therefore, in thorough possession of his 
mind though not of his bodily strength, Mitchell saw 
that his fate must soon be terminated by some decided 
act of his own. He was doubtless, safe from attack 
in his solitary and concealed perch, but his physical 
powers must soon yield to utter exhaustion unless he 
obtained water and nourishment. After a cautious 



WRECKER AMONG THE SEMINOLES. 131 

examination of the neighborhood by peering over the 
barrier, he niight satisfy himself whether the enemy 
was still on the island. He concluded moreover, that 
no one, — not even a Florida indian, — would imagine that 
a human being could remain suspended in mid-air on 
the top of that tower and alive, at least, forty-eight 
hours after such an explosion as must have occurred at 
its base. Nevertheless, he remained perfectly still for 
some time hearkening anxiously to every sound from land 
and sea. Nothing was borne to him that gave the 
slightest indication of a savage. At length he ventured 
to lift up his head and look towards the dwelling. A 
glance assured him that it was deserted, for it had been 
burnt since the catastrophe, and the whole of its blackened 
exterior was visible from his elevation. Researched the 
surrounding sands which had been beaten by the recent 
rains, but he could not detect the track of a human foot. 
As he cast his eyes towards the strait, in the direction of 
the main, he descried a canoe containing at least three 
persons crawling slowly from under the lee of the island, 
and passing towards Florida. It bore unquestionably, 
the remnant of his red-skinned tormentors! 

Nor was his seaward view less cheering. A couple of 
miles from the landing, within full sight, so that he could 
distinctly discern the people walking her deck, a trim 
little schooner, under full sail, was steering southward! 



132 OUR COUNTRY. 

It was the work of a moment to bind together, with 
his braces, a couple of ramrods from the muskets that 
still rested on the ledge, and to attach to them the shirt 
of which he stripped himself. 

He was seen ! Sail was shortened on the schooner, 
till under easy canvass, she approached the land as near 
as practicable; when backing her mainsail, she "laid to," 
and sent her boat ashore. 

The excitement of hope and present rescue quickly 
aroused the torpid blood and benumbed limbs of the 
weather-beaten prisoner. Yet Mitchell did not start 
from his ledge till he saw the skiff dash through the 
breakers and come within hail. Then with a vigor that 
nothing but the joy of escape could have imparted, he 
sprang to the lightning rod that still clung to the wall, 
and gliding down it to the ground, ran to the beach and 
fell swooninsr in the bottom of the savior boat. 



THE MISSISSIPPI. 



Monarch of rivers in the wide doumin 

Where Freedom writes her signature in stars, 

And bids her eagle bear the cheering scroll 

To usher in the reign of peace and love, 

Thou mighty Mississippi ! — may my song 

Swell with thy power, and though an humble rill, 

Roll, like thy current, through the sea of time; 

Bearing thy name, as tribute from my soul 

Of fervent gratitude and holy praise, 

To Him who poured thy multitude of waves. 

Shadowed beneath those awful piles of stone, 
Where Liberty has found a Pisgah height, 
O'erlooking all the land she loves to bless, — 
The jagged rocks and icy towers her guard, 
Whose splintered summits seize the warring clouds, 
And roll them, broken, like a host o'erthrown, 
Adown the mountains' side, scattering their wealth 
Of powdered pearl and liquid diamond-drops, — 
There is thy source, — great Kiver of the West ! 
12 



134 OUR COUNTRY. 

Slowly, like youthful Titan gathering strength 

To war with heaven and win himself a name, 

The stream moves onward through the dark ravines, 

Eending the roots of overarching trees 

To form its narrow channel, where the star 

That fain would bathe its beauty in the wave, 

With lover's glance steals, trembling, through the leaves 

That veil the waters with a vestal's care: — 

And few of human form have ventured there 

Save the swart savage in his bark canoe. 

But now it deepens, rushes, struggles on; 
Like goaded warhorse, bounding o'er the foe. 
It clears the rocks it may not spurn aside. 
Leaping, as Curtius leaped, adown the gulf, — 
And rising, like Antaeus, from the fall, 
Its course majestic through the land pursues. 
And the broad river o'er the valley reigns ! 

It reigns alone. The tributary streams 
Are humble vassals, yielding to the sway; 
And when the wild Missouri fain would join 
A rival in the race — as Jacob seized 
On his red brother's birthright, even so 
The swelling Mississippi grasps that wave, 
And, re-baptizing, makes the waters one. 



THE MISSISSIPPI. 135 

It reigns alone — and earth the sceptre feels: 
Her ancient trees are bowed beneath the wave, 
Or, rent like reeds before the whirlwind's swoop, 
Toss on the bosom of the maddened flood 
A floating forest, till the waters, calmed, 
Like slumbering anaconda gorged with prey, 
Open a haven to the moving mass 
Or form an island in the vast abyss. 

It reigns alone. Old Nile would ne'er bedew 

The lands it blesses with its fertile tide. 

Even sacred Ganges joined with Egypt's flood 

Would shrink beside this wonder of the West ! 

Ay, gather Europe's royal rivers all — 

The snow-swelled Neva, with an Empire's weight 

On her broad breast, she yet may overwhelm; 

Dark Danube, hurrying, as by foe pursued 

Through shaggy forests and by palace walls 

To hide its terrors in a sea of gloom; 

The castled Rhine, whose vine-crowned waters flow 

The fount of fable and the source of song; 

The rushing Rhine, in whose cerulean depths 

The loving sky seems wedded with the wave; 

The yellow Tiber, choked with Roman spoils, 

A dying miser shrinking 'neath his gold; 

And Seine, where fashion glasses fairest forms; 



136 OUR COUNTRY. 

And Thames, that bears the riches of the world:— 

Gather their waters in one ocean mass, — 

Our Mississippi, rolling proudly on, 

Would sweep them from his path, or swallow up, 

Like Aaron's rod, these streams of fame and song ! 

And thus the peoples, from the many lands, 

Where these old streams are household memories, 

Mingle beside our River, and are one; 

And join to swell the strength of freedom's tide. 

That from the fount of truth is flowing on 

To sweep earth's thousand tyrannies away. 

How wise, how wonderful the works of God ! 
x\nd hallowed by His goodness, all are good. 
The creeping glow-worm — the careering sun 
Are kindled from the effluence of His light. 
The ocean and the acorn-cup are filled 
By gushings from the fountain of His love. 
}le poured the Mississippi's torrent forth 
And heaved its tide above the trembling land — 
Grand type, how freedom lifts the citizen 
Above the subject masses of the world — 
And marked the limits it may never pass. 
Trust in His promises and bless His power 
Ye dwellers on its banks, and be at peace ! 



THE MISSISSIPPI. VS7 

And ye, whose way is on tliis warrior wave, 
When the swollen waters heave with ocean's might. 
And storms and darkness close the gate of heaven, 
And the frail bark, fire-driven, bounds quivering on 
As thouorh it rent the iron shroud of ni2;ht 
And struggled with the demons of the flood — 
Fear not — if Christ be with ye in the boat: 
Lean on His pitying breast in faith and prayer 
And rest, — His arm of love is strong to save. 

Great source of being, beauty, light and love ! 
Creator, Lord: the waters worship thee ! 
Ere thy creative smile had sown the flowers. 
Ere the glad hills leaped upward, or the earth, 
With swelling bosom, waited for her child; 
Before eternal Love had lit the sun 
Or time had traced his dial-plate in stars, 
The joyful anthem of the waters flowed; — 
And Chaos like a frightened felon fled, 
While on the deep the Holy Spirit moved. 

And evermore the deep has worshipped God; 
And bards and prophets tune their mystic lyres 
While listening to the music of the floods. 
Oh ! could I catch the harmony of sounds, 
12* 



138 OUR COUNTRY. 

As borne on dewy wings they float to heaven, 
And blend their meaning with my closing strain ! 

Hark ! as a reed-harp thrilled by whispering winds, 
Or Naiad murmurs from a pearl-lipped shell 
It comes, — the melody of many waves ! 
And loud, with freedom's world awakening note, 
"Father of Waters," — thine to lead the choir 
And shout the triumphs of the toiling hand, 
In reverent hope obeying God's behest — 
"Subdue the earth — 'tis man's dominion given:" 
And now, what happy voices swell the strain ! 
The pure sweet fountain's chant of heaven's bliss; 
The chorus of the rills is household love; 
The rivers roll their songs of social joy; 
And ocean's organ tones are sounding on 
The holy anthem — peace and brotherhood 
Among the nations — and "good will to men" — 
When Christ shall rule the world in righteousness. 

"Father of Waters," — whose far-reaching arm 
Binds West to East like brothers heart to heart, 
And, through thy bounteous tributary streams. 
Our Country's healthful arteries of life, 
Dost send^ on either hand, thy blessings free. 
Alike to Southern gulf and Northern lake, 



THE MISSISSIPPI. 139 

Great river of America for all: — 

Our Country lifts thy waters to her lip, 

lu reverent thankfulness and patriot hope, 

As pledge of peace and bond of unity, — 

And prays that God, who made our fathers free. 

And crowned them with a diadem of stars, 

One name encircling all — "Oue Washington;" — 

Would pardon all our sins and keep us one; 

In heart and name, in law and language one; 

To worship Him and do His will as one, — 

Till earth's great day of peace and rest shall come. 



Philadelphia, January^ 1864. 



WOMEN OF SEVENTY-SIX. 



A MATRON of Philadelphia, writing in June, 1780, 
thus expresses the general sentiments of American women 
"Our ambition is kindled by the fame of those heroines 
of antiquity, who have rendered their sex illustrious. I 
glory in all that which woman has done, great and com- 
mendable. I call to mind with enthusiasm and admira- 
tion, all those acts of courage, constancy and patriotism, 
which history has transmitted to us. The people, chosen 
of heaven — preserved from destruction by the virtue, zeal 
and resolution of Deborah, of Judith, and of Esther! 
The fortitude of the mother of the Maccabees, in giving 
up her sons to die before her eyes; Rome saved from the 
fury of a victorious enemy by the efforts of Volumnia 
and other Roman ladies; so many famous sieges, where 
the women have been seen, forgetting the weakness of 
their sex, building new walls, digging trenches with their 
feeble hands, furnishing arms to their defenders; they 
themselves darting the missile weapons on the enemy, 
resigning the ornaments of their apparel and their fortunes 



WOMEN OF SEVENTY-SIX. 141 

to fill the public treasury, and hasten the deliverance of 
their country; burying themselves under its ruins, throw- 
ing themselves into the flames, rather than submit to the 
disgrace of humiliation before a proud enemy. 

"Born for liberty, we associate ourselves with the 
grandeur of those sovereigns, cherished and revered, 
who have held with so much dignity the sceptres of the 
greatest states: the Matildas, the Elizabeths, the Maries, 
the Catherines, who have extended the empire of liberty, 
and, contented to reign by sweetness and justice, have 
broken the chains of slavery forged by tyrants in times of 
ignorance and barbarity. The Spanish women — do they 
not make, at this moment, the most patriotic sacrifices 
to increase the means of victory in the hands of their 
sovereign. He is a friend to the French nation. They 
are our allies. We call to mind, doubly interested, that 
it was a French maid who kindled up among her fellow 
citizens the flame of patriotism, buried under long mis- 
fortunes; it was the maid of Orleans who drove from the 
kingdom of France the ancestors of those same British 
whose odious yoke we have just shaken off", and whom it 
is necessary that we drive from this continent." 

A kindred spirit showed itself in two Southern women, 
Mrs. Barnett and her daughter — whose good deeds no 
history has recorded Susannah Barnett was born in 
Mecklenberg county, N. C. in 1761 She described the 



142 OUR COUNTRY. 

great gathering of the people of Charlotte in May, 1775, 
as "the day of the throwing up of hats." The battle of 
Lexington had taken place a month before, and the news 
had just come in hand-bills by express. Then there was 
no sectional feeling ; the same sentiment pervaded the 
masses North and South. In 1780, when, after the fall 
of Charleston, South Carolina, as Gen. Greene said, was 
"cut off from the Union like the tail of a snake," Susan- 
nah and her family gave all possible help to the flying 
patriots, hastening to form their camp at Clem's Branch. 
One day a dusty, travel-weary party of fugitives, 
arrived at the large, three story log-house, occupied by 
John Barnett, and craved hospitality. It was General 
Sumter and his family. His wife, a cripple from infancy, 
was placed on a feather bed on horseback, with a negro 
woman behind to hold her on. She had fallen off several 
times, and her face was black with bruises. Her son 
Tom, a boy of sixteen, was with them; and a young 
woman, their housekeeper, named Nancy Davis. She 
told their kind hosts how the British and Tories had 
come to Sumter's house; how she had locked up every 
thing and flung the keys among the grass in the yard; 
but it availed nothing: the enemy fired the house, and all 
was soon a pile of ashes. General Sumter's family had 
escaped with difiiculty. They were warmly welcomed, 
and remained at Barnett's more than a month. 



WOMEN OF SEVENTY-SIX. 143 

After the slaughter of Buford's men at the Waxhaws, 
the wounded were brought to the house; and Susannah 
aided her mother in feeding six men who had but two 
arms among them. Her father and two brothers were at 
the battle of Hanging Rock. Mrs. Barnett went to 
Charlotte, to obtain tidings of their fate; and the wounded 
were brought to the place. On the morning of the 19th 
August, 1780, the road was full of soldiers and fugitives 
making their way thither. General Sumter, with one 
or two of his aids, rode up to Mr. Barnett's house, 
dismounted, and entered. "Mrs. Barnett," he said, 
"do let us have something to eat, if only a piece of 
johnny cake and a cup of milk." The matron answered, 
"General, I have fed more than fifty men this morning; 
but I'll try." Some provision had been laid by for the 
family: it was then produced and set out for General 
Sumter. While eating, he turned to Susannah, and 
said; "Miss Sukey, please to arrange my hair; but never 
mind combing it; it is so tangled." His hair was long, 
and rather light colored. The young lady, during his 
repast, clubbed it as well as she could, tangled as it 
was. In reply to Mrs. Barnett's enquiry, how it was 
that the ximerican soldiers and patriots were all flying? 
Sumter said: "It was indeed a surprise; (alluding to the 
memorable surprise on Fishing Creek,) the enemy crossed 
the creek before we knew of it, and was in the midst of 



144 OUR COUNTRY. 

the camp. I was in the marquee, asleep at the time, 
and was carried out at the back part, and mounted a 
horse that stood ready. But it was soon shot down 
under me. I obtained the horse I now have, not a very 
good one to be sure, and the saddle rather the worse for 
wear. So I am here. You see I have lost my cocked 
hat and fine feathers; but this old hat, torn in the rim as 
it is, has sheltered my head from the burning sun: it 
was the gift of a noble soldier." With many thanks 
for his breakfast, and a hearty shaking of hands, the 
General then mounted his horse, and went on his way to 
Charlotte. 

Another of the refugees sheltered in this hospitable 
home, was Walter Brown, father of the distinguished 
divine. Dr. John Brown. He and his family, after they 
had been plundered of every thing, were entertained 
some time at Barnett's. At length, came news that the 
British were advancing on Charlotte. 

Mrs. Barnett, standing at her door and looking anx- 
iously down the road, perceived some one approaching. 
"Sukey and Jenny Brown," she cried, addressing her 
own child, and the pretty daughter of her guest — "run 
out to the road and enquire the news." 

The traveller was a lad on a sorely jaded horse; his 
face was very long and sunburnt. Susannah asked him 
whence he came. 



WOMEN OF SEVENTY-SIX. 145 

"From the Waxhaws," was his reply. 

"Do you know Major Crawford?" 

"To be sure I do; he is my uncle " 

"And who are you?" 

"My name is Andrew Jackson." 

"What is the news about the British?" 

"They are on their way to Charlotte." 

"What are you doing down there?" 

"Why, we are popping them occasionally." 

The long slender face of the stripling lighted up with 
a pleasant smile, and bowing with the ease and grace of 
a polished gentleman, he said: "Good morning, ladies," 
and passed on. As he went by the house, Mrs. Barnett 
had a full view of his sallow cheeks and Ian thorn visage, 
and laughed heartily when she heard of his remark about 
"popping" the enemy. 

"Little Andy/' as young Jackson was called, was 
followed by an advance of some three hundred men under 
the command of Colonel Davie, who had a skirmish with 
the British by night at Wahab's, in the Waxhaw settle- 
ment. Jack Barnett, Susannah's brother, was of this 
party. The British carried their wounded to the house 
of Thomas Spratt, who, being wounded himself, was. 
removed to his kitchen. 

It was here that Major Frazer, of the British army,, 
died; while Cornwallis and Rawdon both stood by his. 
13 



146 OUR COUNTRY. 

bed, and averred with lifted bands, that "be was one of 
the best officers who had crossed the ocean." A Scotch 
physician who was in attendance, afterwards went into 
the kitchen to examine Mr. Spratt. 

"What is the matter with you maun?'' he asked. 

"I have a fever." The physician felt his pulse, and 
exclaimed — 

"Why, maun, you are wounded!" 

"And what if I am!" said the patient. 

"Ah! I am fearfu' you have been fighting against 
your lawfu' sovereign, King George !" 

"I have been fighting for my country, and if I was 
well, I would do it again," replied Spratt. 

"Well, well, you are a brave soldier, and I'll dress 
your wounds for you," said the Scotchman: and he did 
so, attending upon him as long as the British troops 
occupied the house. 

These unbidden guests took from Spiatt, over a 
hundred head of cattle, hogs, &c, 

Mr. Harnett's house was also plundered. When one 
of his horses was brought up and bridled f(»r the use of 
a British soldier, Mrs. Barnett walked up and pulled off 
the bridle. Some of the men threatened to kill her. 
"You can do so," she answered: "I am in your power, 
but you will be punished for it." Seeing a crock of milk 
which the intruders had brought from her cellar, she 



WOMEN OF SEVENTY-SIX. 147 

near and pushed it over with her foot. The 
infuriated soldiers rushed at her, swearing they would cut 
her to pieces. "Do, if you dare!" said she, with an air 
of haughty defiance. "You will be shot at from every 
bush in the country." They did not molest her, but 
went away without the horse. 

Susannah was married to George Smart, in 1795. 
She related anecdotes of two United States' Presi- 
dents; Andrew Jackson, and "little Jamie Polk" who 
used to run along the road, with his breeches rolled up 
to his knees. This worthy matron, when informed that 
a political meeting had been held in York District, South 
Carolina, to advocate the secession of South Carolina 
from the Union, said: "The North and South stood 
shoulder to shoulder in the times of '76. We should 
settle our family bickerings at all times by a compro- 
mise." 



SONNET. 



On the Field of Antietam, 

Sept. 25, 1862. 

As IF with Autumn's leaves the failing year 
Too soon these wasted hills had covered o'er 
The soil is crimsoned: but, of human gore, 

On nearer sight these deeper dyes appear! 

Oh, what a dread Aceldama is here 

Of those the treach'rous steel that dared to draw, 
And those, asserting Right, avenging Law, 

Who nobly fell in duty's high career ! 

As lustrous amber meaner things contains, 
So glory's field embosoms foes unjust 
Who found a brotherhood foresworn, in dust: 

But the pure ichor from the patriot's veins, • 

How hath it changed, in one triumphant day, 

Antietam's name unnau.ed to Fame's proud word for aye. 



DRUM HEAD NOTES 

FROM THE CAMP AND FIELD.* 



Four Locks on the Ches. and Ohio Canal, 

Octoher 31si, 1862. 

It is now about day-break, half past five o'clock. The 
stars are still bright, though light from a superior source 
is beginning to be visible. The sun rises here on the 
Virginia side of the river. In Williamsport, the sun sets 
on the Virginia side. This is owing to the crooked course 
of the Potomac, which doubles upon itself at this point, 
and throws a narrow neck of Maryland soil forward into 
Virginia. Our present station is at a point on the Canal, 
where a store^ a warehouse, a few scattered dwellings, and 

* The fragments of correspondence published under the above 
title, taken from such private letters as have been preserved and 
could be hastily collected, are not in any sense to be understood 
as a narration of events. On the contrary, all details of impor- 
tant military movements with which the writer was connected, 
were expressly requested by him to be omitted. If this has not 
in all cases been carefully done, it is because he had no oppor- 
tunity either of selection or of revision. 

13* 



150 OUK COUNTRY. 

a distillery, are all generalized as the "Four Locks " 
The locks themselves, like almost everything else belong- 
ing to this Canal, are well built, and very creditable to 
the State. As an investment, it has never paid, although 
it cost the State upwards of fifteen millions. * * * * 
Our regiment is now guarding the fords of the river, and 
the culverts and draw-bridges of the canal, for a front of 
over five miles, from above McCoy's Ferry to below Dam 
No. 5. McCoy's Ferry is where Stuart crossed the 
Potomac, and then the Canal, through a culvert beneath 
it To see the precautions taken to prevent another 
similar raid through the same place, would remind one of 
the old saying, about "locking the stable door," etc. As I 
went up the Canal with tht Adjutant, and a citizen named 
Hazlett, to visit McCoy's Ferry and the upper posts, the 
moon shone brightly upon the Canal with its graceful 
curves, the windings of the river, the steep heights on the 
Virginia side, and the gigantic rocks on this side at 
intervals smoothing ofi" into scarped precipices like the 
palisades on the Hudson; there was a fascination too in 
the romantic border tales of Hazlett, who, like many of 
the citizens of this part of the State, had from the first 
taken a deep personal interest in the war, and no little 
actual share in it, as guide, scout, and sometimes as a 
bush-fighter. The excursion had just enough of danger 
in it to make it a little exciting. I was cautioned by 



DRUM HEAD NOTES. 151 

General Vinton, that the rebels would probably make a 
(l;!s]i t-;at night, to capture some of our pickets, as a 
reprisal for the capture of several of theirs a night or two 
before, by Fiery's Maryland cavalry. All was quiet, 
however, through the night, 

Maryland Heights, Dec. 23cZ. 
We marched on Sunday, (21st,) from Williamsport to 
Sharpsburg, twelve miles. Yesterday, from Sharpsburg 
here, about as many more. Sunday was a cold day, the 
streams were ice, the wind piercing. * * ^H ^^ * * 
About four miles from Williamsport, we passed on our 
left, St. James' College, of which I had a fine view. The 
country in the vicinity, and in fact nearly along our 
entire march, in places, had been stripped of fencing, etc. 
by troops. On approaching the battle field of Antietam, 
we halted, made fires and coffee; and began to see balls, 
fragments of exploded shell, graves, etc. From this 
place to Sharpsburg, the turnpike crosses directly through 
the scene of some of the heaviest fighting, marks of 
which were apparent for almost every step of the two 
or three miles. The fences on each side, where they had 
been left standing, were riddled with balls, some strik- 
ing fair and going through, others hitting obliquely 
and tearing oS" splinters. Trees were perforated, their 
branches cut and swinging down. Long trenches of dead, 



152 OUR COUNTRY. 

buried in ranks, appeared by the road side. Some single 
graves were upturned, showing that their inmates had 
been removed. Occasionally rude head boards showed 
in pencil marks the name, regiment and company. The 
horses had not been removed or even covered. Their 
attitude generally was as if they had stiffened in the act 
of struggling to get up. Near Sharpsburg, a little 
"Dunkard" church in the woods, had at least fifty cannon 
shot and shell through roof and wall; yet the church was 
standing, and capable of being repaired. All the houses 
along each side the road, had been pierced with shot or 
shell. The majority of the houses in Sharpsburg bore 
similar marks. Of the four churches in the town, Alex- 
ander's Battery occupied one, (when we arrived,) the 
Eighth Maryland Regiment another, our regiment filled 
the third with five companies, and I went with the balance 
of the regiment to the remaining one, the Episcopal 
church. On arriving there, T found every sash taken 
from the windows. Some of the men, without my know- 
ledge; cut a hole in the floor to build a fire on the ground 
beneath, but the smoke was so uncomfortable that they 
soon put it out. I was about lying down on the platform 
under the pulpit, but before arranging my blankets, I 
thought I would examine the place with a light, having 
heard that the church had been occupied as a hospital for 
wounded rebels. A brief inspection satisfied me that it 



DRUM HEAD NOTES. 153 

was really no place to sleep in, being littered with dirty 
rags, bloody bandages, old poultices, refuse lint, and all 
the offal of a hospital. I did not see any vermin, but 
was willing after what I did see, to take them on trust. 
I then made my head-quarters on the ground outside the 
church, had a rousing fire built, and slept two or three 
hours by snatches, getting up every once in a while to 
warm. The men, after grumbling a little at first, finally 
made themselves as jolly as possible, and the talk around 
the bivouac fires was highly amusing. Daylight next 
morning revealed to us, that we had spent the long, cold 
night of the 21st December in a grave-yard, peopled 
mainly by the Southern wounded from the field of 
Antietam. In some places, where too thin a covering of 
earth had been disturbed by dogs or hogs, a protruding 
foot, or hand, made a mournful monument above the 
nameless grave. With the levity and bad taste too com- 
mon among soldiers, ghastly jokes were being made over 
this touching spectacle — I thought of my old school-mates, 
college friends, and of the hands which in better, happier 
days, I had pressed in cordial intimacy. I thought too 
of the quaint inscription which I read on the tomb of 
Shakespeare, at Stratford on Avon: 

"Good friend, for Jesus' sake forbeare 
To dig the dust encloased here; 
Blest be the man that spares my bones, 
And curs' t be he that moves these stones." 



154 OUR COUNTRY. 

I ordered these gloomy relies to be respectfully covered 
with the frozen clods. I was informed that the church 
had only been evacuted as a hospital some two weeks 
before. 

Although the sky lowered before the sun went down, 
and snow fell during the night, the next day (Monday 
2'2d) was clear, and by comparison mild. From Sharps- 
burg to the mouth of the Antietam, the havoc of battle 
continued visible along the road. Here we commenced 
ascending the mountain, the men began to sweat under 
their knapsacks, the artillery horses labored as if they 
thought the term "Light Battery," a misnomer, the 
wagon mules behind them in mute protest; the defile 
narrowed, precipices yawned, the road clung to the 
scarped mountain side; dense pine thickets vainly strove 
to hide awful gulfs; bursts of poetic scenery broke from 
mountain, valley, gorge and river, like a song of joy. I 
saw again the Simplon, the Rhine, the Simmering Alps, 
Mount Washington, all in miniature. In fact, as I rode 
along, sometimes ahead of the regiment, I became so 
absorbed in contemplation and retrospection, that I 
almost imagined myself a lonely traveller, a careless 
tourist among the tranquil scenes of nature. The sharp 
crack of a minie rifle from a picket on the river bank, 
many hundred feet below, broke into one of these reveries, 
and I then noticed the branches of pine and fir cut down 



DRUM HEAD NOTES. 155 

and piled on the side of the road on the crest of the 
heights, as a mask for sharp-shooters, when pickets ex- 
change shots across the river. 

Maryland Heights, Dec. 28^^. 
The summit of this mountain, (a part of the Blue 
Ridge,) is 1200 feet above the river. Loudon Heights 
is the continuation across the river; that is, the Potomac 
cuts the mountain in two, — Maryland Heights on this 
side, Loudon on the other. The Shenandoah again 
divides Loudon from Bolivar Heights, and Bolivar looks 
across the Potomac at Maryland Heights. In the apex 
of the angle, made by the confluence, shudders the God- 
forsaken, man-destroyed village of Harpers Ferry. The 
ruins of the Government works, armories, etc. are a brick- 
yard. Churches have become hospitals, — gardens and 
pleasure grounds, grave-yards, — private residences, bar- 
racks and stables. Most of the inhabitants have fled. 
Of the few old settlers who remain, some have a scared 
and anxious look Only nature is as calm and magnifi- 
cent as ever; the confronting Heights survey each other 
blandly, with arms folded in placid repose; the Potomac 
and Shenandoah have not yet heard of the dissolution of 
the Union, and swear by all their commingling waters 
that — they "don't see it neither." Just as I was about 
rounding oif that last sentence rhetorically, T was inter- 



156 OUR COUNTRY. 

rupted by a mighty noise, laid down my pen, wont out of 
my tent to see what was the matter, came back and 
wound up as above. Something less than forty mules 
and horses, hitched to a huge Columbiad, came scratch- 
ing, puffing and digging up the mountain, cheered by 
the outcries of some hundred or two men, using prolongs 
or heavy ropes, now tugging up with might and main, 
now pulling back as she plunges down a descent in the 
road, passed directly in front of my tent, and were 
creaking, thundering, snorting, and shouting up to a 
naval battery of heavy Dahlgren guns, mounted in sand 
bag embrasures directly over our heads, some six hundred 
feet up. 

It is about eleven o'clock at night. The Great Bear 
is standing rampant on the end of his tail. Orion glitters 
fiercely over Maryland Heights. The Pleiades have 
reached the zenith, and seem, as they look down upon 
the two rivers babbling innocently as they meet beneath, 
to be weeping, not so much for the lost sister above, as 
for the divided sisters below. Mars and a half moon are 
keeping company to-night; they have long since crossed 
the river, and got into the Southern Confederacy, glaring 
in the Southern sky, like a token of war and division. 
And there are still more striking omens of hostility below. 
The mountain upon whose side we are encamped, is 
rapidly becoming another Ehrenbrestein; the Potomac, 
is being made another Rhine. 



DRUM HEAD NOTES. 157 

*'In the Field." 

ROWLESBURG, PrESTON Co., Va. 

Ajyril dOth, 1863. 
From Altamont to Ocakland, we proceeded through the 
"Glades," leaving the former place a little before day- 
break. Part of the way, I walked ahead of the train, 
with the advance guard, — part of the way, I rode on the 
locomotive. Tracks of the rebels were discernible at 
intervals, one or two small bridges burned and repaired ; 
telegraph wires cut, etc. Just before sunrise, I noticed a 
landscape which seemed the very original of Rosa Bon- 
heur's "Morning in the Highlands." A group of small, 
shaggy, short-horned mountain cattle was just in the act 
of making up its mind that day was breaking, some had 
arisen and commenced to graze — others were still lying 
as they had reposed all night, the dew glistening on their 
hair. Arriving at Oakland, about six A. M., we were 
met by some citizens, full of what the rebels had been 
doing in their hitherto "unknown to fame" locality. 
* >K >K * * \ye left Oakland in a rain storm, in 
the very lightest marching order, all our knapsacks being 
left behind. Two or three miles out, we came to a 
stream, over which the rebels had burned a bridge the 
day before. The men walked over on a plank bridge 
which we built ourselves, the materials being at hand, as 
we crossed by a saw-mill. We unloaded our wagons 
14 



158 OUR COUNTRY. 

containing hospital stores and surgical instruments, camp- 
kettles and mess-pans, forage and ammunition; and we, 
who were mounted, forded the stream, and a most difficult 
ford it was. The creek (named Youghiogheny) was 
swollen, and the banks steep and miry. The wagons 
had to be hauled through by the men. After this 
crossing, Colonel Webster threw out an advance guard, 
with the closest preparations against surprise on any 
side; some struck the line of the rail road, and marched 
along it ten miles to Cranberry Summit. The scenery 
was wild and interesting. The line between Maryland 
and Virginia, is marked by a small monument of lime- 
stone, having on one side the letter "M," and on the 
other the letter "V." We found the little town of 
Cranberry in a state of intense excitement. It had been 
visited the day previous by rebel cavalry. The citizens 
and a few soldiers had a skirmish with them. The rebels 
were too strong for them, and took the place — robbed the 
stores of their entire stock of goods, and stole all the 
available horses. Left Cranberry about seven, P. M , 
"in thunder, lightning, and in rain," and then made the 
most wearying, harrassing, forced march we have made 
yet; and thirteen miles further on, to "Number 72," a 
water station on the rail road. We did not follow the 
track, but took the "dirt-road," and it was certainly the 
dirtiest dirt-road ever travelled. Narrow, steep, out of 



DRUM HEAD NOTES. 159 

repair, stony, muddy, slippery, full of sloughs, crossed 
and recrossed by creeks, such as Salt Lick, through which 
the men waded a dozen times, nearly waist deep, up and 
down mountain sides, along precipices, through gloomy 
gorges, from the very bottom of which gigantic hemlocks 
lifted up their solemn branches amid moss-covered piles 
of prostrate timber which had died and fallen in this 
primeval mountain forest, — centuries, perhaps, ago. 
Sometimes through the rain, a smothered moonlight 
would give us a glimpse of the rail road, passing through 
a monstrous cut, hundreds of feet below us It was in 
this way, that we crossed over Rodemar's Tunnel, ascend- 
ing and descending the mountain, under which the rail 
road has burrowed. 

May \st. 
General Kenly passed up the road this morning with 

several heavy trains and thousand men. As he 

started from this station, the brigade band struck up a 
tune, every note of which was reverberated from the 
mountains on either side of Cheat River. The effect 
was rapturously enchanting, as chord after chord came 
echoing back, the air for miles around seeming to swell 
and palpitate with mysterious, unearthly strains and 
harmonies, like those with which Ariel followed the 
wizard wand of Prospero. I cannot give the faintest 
approach to an appreciative idea of this Titanic concert. 



160 OUE COUNTRY. 

I can only say that to hear once more the Alleghanies 
unite as they did this morning, their solemn voices, in a 
monster Union chorus, 1 would freely give six months 
service to my country, and consider myself rewarded. 
Perhaps the most peculiar effect was in the critical 
analysis, and discriminating musical taste, which the 
mountains evinced, showing that amidst the lore they 
had gathered in their "awful age," they have not 
neglected the cultivation of the fine arts. While one 
mountain, close at hand, would promptly repeat the air, 
another further off would chime in deliberately with the 
tenor; and others, miles away, with magnificent indepen- 
dence, ignored everything but the basso profundo, 
solemnly muttering, as if to themselves, long after every 
other mountain voice had ceased. Surely, I thought, 
such majestic music has never been heard since the stars 
shouted for joy in the morning of creation. **:}:* 

May 2(L 9 F. 31. 
I have seen three moon-rises to-night. I first saw a 
rising "large and slow" over the heights which form 
the eastern range of the mountain barrier that closely 
shuts us in upon every side. Two watch fires of our 
pickets were gleaming upon the summit of this height. 
Suddenly the trees between them were thrown into distinct 
outline, by the atmospheric illumination, which heralded 



DRUM HEAD NOTES. 161 

the moon's approach, and then the "completed moon" 
herself gradually measured her diameter upon the trees, 
seeming to cover about half their height. This would 
make the aijparent diameter of the moon about thirty 
feet. I was contemplating this spectacle in company 
with the Colonel and Major, and so interesting was it, 
that we caused the performance to be twice encored by 
approaching the mountain. On my way down, I noticed 
by the side of the path, a stain of blood upon a flat stone. 
Looking around, I saw bullet marks upon the trees. 
This was the spot where the rebels, who had dismounted 
and left their horses some distance back, received and 
returned the fire of the Union defenders of this place on 
last Sunday. Our people, (Sixth Virginia Volunteers,) 
were firing from behind the embankment of the rail road, 
just at the bridge, and with considerable effect. At the 
same time another demonstration was made by the rebels 
from the heights on the other side of the river. Both 
attempts, as I have said, were repulsed. 

Bolivar Heights, May 17th, 1863. 
From Rowlesburg to Amblersburg, or No. 72, wo 
retraced our line of march on the rail road, going up the 
Salt Lick valley, and of course looking with interest upon 
the various objects which had attracted our attention 
before. From Oakland to Altamont, we passed again 
14* 



162 OUR COUNTRY. 

through the '^Glades," the spacious heaths or moors 
which form the table-land at the crown of the Allegha- 
nies. Here the streams are sluggish, winding through 
brakes, widening into ponds, or draining through mo- 
rasses The shrill chorus of frogs pierced sharply 
through the din and rumble of our heavy trains. Here, 
on the ample crest of this continental plateau, might be 
concentrated into two vast, opposing camps, all the armed 
men now distributed throughout the whole theatre of 
war; and here a million of men might join battle, finding 
spacious plains for battalions to manoeuvre^ and for cavalry 
to charge in, finding commanding positions on the tops 
of gently sloping mounds for batteries to play from, and 
finding thickets, brakes and skirts of forest, for light 
infantry and riflemen to skirmish. The descent of the 
steep grade down the eastern slope of the Alleghanies 
from Altamont to Piedmont, rushing around sharp curves, 
clinging to the scarped sides of precipices where a pale 
star-light revealed black gulfs and chasms out of whose 
abysses rank after rank of gloomy hemlock rose in almost 
vertical ascent until the topmost boughs of the loftiest 
came nearly up to our level — was one of the most thrilling 
and exciting experiences of my life. I could not but 
feel a sense of awful peril, not so much on my own per- 
sonal account, as on that of the entire regiment, dis- 
tributed among three trains following each other in quick 



DRUM HEAD NOTES. 163 

succession down the declivity. There was in fact greater 
actual danger on our ascent three weeks ago. The rebels 
had torn up the track at Altamont the day before. We 
were on the first train that went up, and part of the way 
I was riding with Colonel Webster on the engine, part of 
the way in an iron powder car next to the tender. Yet 
we scarcely felt at that time any other emotion than one 
of excitement at the prospect of meeting a supposed 
enemy. I must confess that I am much more afraid of 
the law of gravitation than I am of rebel bushwhackers. 
Arriving safely at Piedmont, a curious sight it was to 
see the accumulation of tonnage trains, blowing ofi" steam 
from their huge mammoth engines, drawn up abreast on 
twenty parallel side tracks, all waiting for us to come 
down, so that they might make the ascent. Here, our 
three trains were united into one enormous train of 
twenty-eight or nine cars. As we backed and filled, by 
the light of lanterns, amid all this complication of tracks 
to accomplish this result, it seemed a mystery how we 
we were to be got out. Once fairly started, I bid the 
scenery (which by the way had gone fairly to bed, and 
was invisible) good night, and slept to New Creek. By 
the time we reached the beautiful country about the 
South Branch of the Potomac, it was broad daylight. 
From where we first struck the head-waters of the Poto- 
mac, we had seen this pretty mountain stream gradually 



164 OUR COUNTEY. 

widen, as each successive tributary poured in its waters. 
And when it was swollen by the greater volume of the 
South Branch, it began to assume something of the 
character of a national river, worthy to divide States, but 
not Empires. Crossing the rail road bridge over the 
South Branch, a rich view of the meadows and green 
bottom lands of this beautiful Hampshire valley opened 
up a vista on our right. The greater forwardness of 
vegetation made our descent the more apparent. Soon 
after, we crossed the bridge over "Little Capon," and 
then for miles our huge train writhing and twisting its 
tortuous course, as the track followed the constantly 
recurring horse shoe bends and curves of the river; the 
roofs of the cars tiled with men whose bright arms 
flashed in the morning sun; suggested the fancy of some 
huge Python of antique myth, glittering with burnished 
scales, its flaming crest threateningly erect, swiftly coil- 
ing its way along, with *'many a fold voluminous and 
vast." The arts of peace and the art of war, have made 
some progress since such fables were sung by poets, and 
taught by priests. The great captains and conquerors of 
ancient times were respectable enough in their day; but 
here, I thought, is a little regiment which could get off" 
of these cars with its Springfield rifles, form line of battle 
in two ranks against any Macedonian phalanx with its 
hedge-hog formation of sixteen deep, with levelled spears 



DRUM HEAD NOTES. 165 

sixteen feet long, and before it had used six out of its 
sixty rounds of cartridges, could put to flight the army 
with which Alexander the Great conquered the world, 
and speedily dry that hero's tears, at having no more 
worlds to conquer. But neither Macedonian phalanx, 
nor Roman legion, nor Carthagenian cuneus, appeared in 
force to contest our progress, except in imagination. It 
is "when Grreek meets Greek, then comes the tug of 
war." Our arms are to be used against men having 
similar arms, as expert in their use, as determined to 
conquer, perhaps as confident of their cause, as ourselves. 
>lc >ic * * * * 

Instead of wondering at the reverses which our army 
in Eastern Yirginia has met since the beginning of this 
war, the surprise with me is, that they have not been 
greater. Had the seat of war been in Massachusetts or 
Vermont, — had Lee and Stonewall Jackson been in com- 
mand of an invading army of rebels there, I am satisfied 
that they would have been worse whipped than Banks or 
Pope was. Genius, courage, and discipline avail much 
in war, but timely and correct information is indispen- 
sable to success. To obtain this, a General, of course, 
makes every effort — spies, prisoners, deserters, signals, 
reconnoisances — no means known to th§ art of war is 
unemployed; and yet, a friendly population is worth all 
the rest put together. This advantage, the rebels in 



166 OUR COUNTRY. 

Eastern Virginia have had from the start, and still have 
over us, but in a constantly decreasing degree. 

Still, our Eastern Virginia campaigns have not been 
unsuccessful. They have resulted in putting Jiors du 
combat, many thousands of armed rebels. True, we 
have lost as many men, but we can better spare them. 
As to military operations elsewhere, I think it may be 
affirmed without fear of successful contradiction, that the 
scale of success largely preponderates towards the Union 
side. In the West, we have never met with a single 
conspicuous reverse, nor one humiliating disaster. We 
have on the contrary, gained naval and military successes 
in that theatre, eclipsing in brilliancy the most famous 
exploits of ancient or modern heroism. And if our cause 
is encouraging at home, it is daily gaining ground abroad, 
and fast becoming recognized everywhere as the cause of 
civilization and progress. 

May 2M, (Monday in Whitsun Week.) 

The weather for a few days past has been sultry, 
murky, hazy; sun setting copper-red, behind a brazen 
bank of mist — horned moon glaring awhile and then 
swallowed up in the thick air — no breeze stirring even 
on high points — extraordinary, portentous — boding earth- 
quakes, wars, and rumors of wars. Last night high wind 
from south-east — moist wind from ocean — a Whitsuntide 



DRUM HEAD NOTES. 16T 

"mighty rushing wind," with real tongues of flame visible 
across the river, the woods on Maryland Heights being on 
fire, throwing a broad flash across the Potomac, now at 
its lowest, complaining audibly at night to its rock and 
grass islands, of its poverty of waters. Whitsuntide 
wind smiting our camp till its canvas shivers like an 
agitated conscience — Pentecostal flames illuminating it 
meanwhile. 

May 29th. 

Lo ! from the top of Loudon Heights, that guerilla- 
infested, rocky promontory, that shoulders against the 
Potomac, on Wednesday morning, I looked down and 
saw a bustle of men over the site of the old encampment 
of the 1st Maryland on Bolivar. Thank heaven, Kenly 
has come back from Western Virginia with the rest of 
the Brigade. Like Balaam, the son of Peer, I could 
have exclaimed — "From the top of the rocks I see 
him, and from the hills I behold him. How blessed are 
thy tents, Israel! and thy tabernacles, Jacob!" 
Although, Israel's tents were not then up, nor indeed as 
yet visible at all, not having been brought up from the 
depot The tabernacle of Jacob, however, could be seen 
just beginning to go up, on the camp of the 8th Mary- 
land Regiment. 



168 OUR COUNTRY. 

Maryland Heights, June lith. 
The evening is calm and starlight, constellations walk 
their round, mountains sit in state, the two rivers roar at 
each other, frogs croak, and whippoorwills pipe, much as 
they used to do in the olden time when these ruined 
arsenals were vocal with the hum of human industry, and 
when gentlemen who have been firing guns at each other 
to-day within sight of our camp, sipped fraternal juleps 
together on summer balconies. The air which for several 
days past has been heavy and thick with rumor; to-day, 
crystallized with unmistakeable cannonading, which from 
our elevated position^ we could both hear and see — "Night" 
here, as often before, "separated the combatants." If 
reports which reach us as to the result of to-day's business 
be true, it is not unlikely that the eloquent speakers in 
the batteries on Maryland Heights will have the floor 
to-morrow. These are the batteries, and these are the 
Heights, which it is our business here to support and 
defend. For my own part, I regard myself as fortunate 
in being so placed as to participate in the defence of my 
own soil. * * sH * * * 

Camp of First Army Corps, near 

Petersville, Md., July lltJi. 
The campaign may be said to have ended with the 
retreat of the rebel army across the Potomac. After a 



DRUM HEAD NOTES. 169 

brief interval which is being employed in resting men 
and animals, re-clothing and re-fitting generally, a new 
campaign will doubtless open on the other side of the 
river. Ever since the defeat of Milroy, at Winchester, on 
the loth June, we have either been drawn up in line of 
battle, or making forced marches, most of them within 
sound of cannon, or sleeping on our arms, ready to march, 
or fight at tap of drum. * * *- * During these 
few weeks, events have succeeded each other so rapidly, 
and the scene has changed so often, that I find it almost 
impossible to retrace all my steps, or recall my varied 
experiences. My impressions have been somewhat like 
those of a tourist, who enjoys, admires, is astonished, is 
disgusted, and then forgets. Minor discomforts and 
privations, and petty disgusts, make up a large part of 
this personal experience; but it is a blessing that these 
are so soon forgotten. ***** 
Our great successes at Gettysburg, Vicksburg and Port 
Hudson, are indeed matters of congratulation, but the 
triumph and elation of the North will be alloyed with 
humiliation at the disgraceful anti-draft riot in New York 
city. This is as it should be. The finger of Providence, 
to my mind discernible in this civil war from its com- 
mencement, is no where more plainly visible than in this 
untoward catastrophe. Pride, the sin of Egypt, the sin 
of Babylon, the sin of Israel and Judah, has been and 
16 



170 OUK COUNTRY. 

still is, the sin of America, the cause of our domestic 
troubles, the root of this war. Southern pride would 
have domineered over the country, pampered itself with 
new slave territory, and fed upon the slave trade. 
Behold it now! New York arrogance and conceit was 
about to strut in triumph "to the Gulf," when Ellsworth's 
Fire Zouaves marched down Broadway. They came 
back from Bull Bun, and New York had to sit down in 
sackcloth. Baltimore was to be "wiped out" after the 
19th April, and New York gloated over the vision of 
streets "ploughed with cannon balls and sown with gun- 
powder." New York has now on the 13th of July, 
received a lesson which it will not soon forget. Penn- 
sylvania Congressmen have sneered at "Border State 
Loyalty," and insolently declared that fear only held 
Maryland in the Union. We have lived to see Pennsyl- 
vania cities hastening to meet a rebel invasion with 
contributions of flour, pork, sugar, coifee and Treasury 
notes, and to hear from the great rebel Chieftain himself, 
that he met a much more formidable and determined 
opposition from the loyalty of Western Maryland, than 
from the Pennsylvanians of the Cumberland Valley. 

. Camp near Warrenton, 

Fauquier Co., Va., July 2Uli. 

We left White Plains early yesterday morning, and 
arrived here about two P. M. The region through which 



DRUM HEAD NOTES. 171 

we have marclied for the last few days, is one of deso- 
lation. At Middleburg, not a young man was to be seen, 
save two or three who had lost a leg or an arm. Just 
as we were breaking our camp at that place, an old man, 
and about half a dozen boys came on the ground to pick 
up such things as are always to be found in a deserted 
camp. I said to the eldest and smartest looking of the 
boys, "I suppose you boys are all good rebels." "We 
all try to be. You would'nt expect anything else in 
Virginia, would you." I replied: "There was a time, 
when the same thing used to be said in Maryland, but 
to-day you see a Brigade of Marylanders in this camp, 
as part of the 1st Corps of the Yankee army." The old 
man remarked: "We have been grossly deceived with 
respect to Maryland, I was always opposed to going off 
of our own ground, any how." 

Fine mansions are yet to be seen along the road, but 
the fences are down, the outbuildings a wreck, and the 
fields "gone to grass." Scarcely a wheat or corn field 
have we seen for the last three or four days. In some 
fields, the wheat is still left in shocks where it was cut 
last year or the year before. The only cultivation is a 
vegetable patch around the houses. The fields are over- 
grown with bramble bushes, or resigned to the pestilent 
Canada thistle. The pasture is yet good in many places, 
and it is fortunate for our horses, and mules and beef- 



172 OUK COUNTRY. 

cattle, that they almost always succeed in finding plenty 
of good timothy, blue-grass, red-top or herd-grass and 
clover. 

About four miles from Warrenton, we came upon a 
Division of Cavalry (I believe Buford's,) encamped with 
their trains parked. They had their scouts out feeling 
the woods for rebels, as we approached. This side of 
their camp, our progress was cautious, and our advance 
flanked by skirmishers. Things began to look interesting 
as we approached the town. The artillery was hurried to 
the front and unlimbered, and the movements of our 
skirmishers indicated the presence of the enemy in their 
front. There was no opposition however to our entrance, 
and as we marched through Warrenton, our Brigade 
Band played the National Airs for the benefit of the few 
old men, women, children, and darkies that showed 
themselves. Of course, there was a marked expression 
of dislike on the part of the inhabitants, but none of that 
haughty scorn which some of the dames in Middleburg 
exhibited. It was rather a deeply sorrowful and heart- 
broken look which most of them, particularly the more 
intelligent and better dressed ladies, wore, and which 
made many of us, for once in our lives, southern sympa- 
thizers. 



DRUM HEAD NOTES, 173 

Camp at Bealeton, Orange & Alex. R. K. 

Fauquier Co., Va., Jidij 2Sth. 

There is no pasture about here, the fields have a 
semblance of verdure, but it is only sedge and swamp- 
grass, and poverty-grass with worthless weeds. From 
the universal and frightful barrenness, it would seem as 
if some blight from heaven had fallen upon this country 
to make it thrice accursed. That slavery has been that 
blight, no man can fail to see. Free labor filling this 
region with a self-relying, industrious population, and di- 
viding it into farms of manageable size, will doubtless, ere 
another generation shall have been gathered to the grave, 
make this hideous desert blossom as the rose. I shall not 
live to see it, but the time will come when this desolate 
and destitute region of Eastern Virginia, will rival Massa- 
chusetts or Belgium, in population and wealth. 

Within the last year, the Confederate States army Uiust 
have been diminished by battle, disease, desertion and 
capitulation, to the extent of two hundred thousand men. 
Where can they find recruits ? Their thinned army as it 
stands, is the net result of an exhausting conscription, 
stringently enforced. Another year's maturity may give 
them an excuse for forcing into the ranks a few more 
children, whose unripe age will probably, in the majority 
of cases, sink under the hardships of the march before 
they reach the battle-field. In the meantime, we are just 
15* 



174 OUR COUNTRY. 

beginning to make our first draft upon those vast resources 
which we have been holding in reserve. Heretofore, we 
have been fighting conscripts with volunteers. We shall 
soon commence to fight conscripts with conscripts. This 
opens the last act in the drama, and the swiftly follow- 
ing catastrophe will be the overthrow of the Southern 
Confederacy, the eternal downfall of secession, and the 
destruction of slavery as an institution. * * * * 

Camp between Stevensburg and Culpeper C. H. 

Se2:>t. IQth. 

Made an early start this morning, marched ten or 
twelve miles, and pitched tents as above. Passed through 
Brandy Station and Stevensburg. Saw some fences along 
the road, and one or two corn fields; but the general aspect 
of this old Virginia, is that of a dreary, abandoned, curse- 
smitten country, given up to wild-carrot, poik-weed and 
poverty-grass. After passing Brandy Station, heard 
cannonading in front, which ceased for awhile, and then 
became quite brisk again when we reached this place, 
about five P.M. Saw along the route many dead and 
crippled horses. Our tents are pitched in a field, which 
at a little distance appeared clad with verdure, but when 
our horses made a closer inspection, they were disgusted 
at finding it covered with a rank growth of rag-weed, 
which had risen in insurrection against a dense and 



DRUM HEAD NOTES. 175 

tangled mat of dewberry vines, and was flaunting in all 
the green glory of vegetable aristocratic uselessness. 
Here and there are an ambitious family of jimson, or an 
impudent clique of polk stalks has risen into notice, and 
has been admitted into the circle of first families, basing 
their claims to distinction upon the efficiency with which 
they have contributed to the suppression of clover, blue- 
grass and timothy ; those vulgar, plebeian and hard 
working grasses which have been generally banished from 
this section of the Old Dominion, together with other 
vestiges of Federal oppression. 

Bristow Station, Oct. 25th. 
We left Thoroughfare Gap yesterday at day-light, in a 
cold, blustering north-easter. The rain of the night 
before, and that which fell during the day, made of the 
road, at no time the best, a slough of despond, through 
which the men dragged heavily, and in which teams sunk 
to their axle-trees. About midnight the weather cleared 
off cold, with a piercing north-wester. Unable to be 
quiet myself, I arose with the morning star. As I looked 
around upon the miry soil on which thousands of wet, 
muddy, human beings were sleeping off the fatigue of the 
day's march, without shelter, without fires other than an 
occasional smoky attempt at one with green pine, I felt 
inclined to moralize. Why was this poor, perishing 



176 OUR COUNTRY. 

human race of ours so constituted by its Creator, as that 
from the earliest times, men have taken every trouble, 
exposed themselves to every danger, and deprived them- 
selves of every comfort, to segregate themselves together 
into inconvenient masses, which they call armies; and in 
this shape to enact scenes of wholesale slaughter and 
mutilation, as the grand aim and end of all this self- 
inflicted misery! It is easy to say, that it is for the 
purpose of developing self-denial, self-sacrifice, — in short, 
the heroic element of man's nature, which, with uninter- 
rupted peace and self-indulgence, would soon degenerate 
into swinish sensuality and sloth. But then the question 
recurs, why was man so constituted as to require this 
severe discipline to keep his humanity up to this classic 
standard ? At this point, I dismissed the speculation, as 
of the same unprofitable class as the discussion about the 
origin of evil; and day having broken, and my appetite 
having dawned about the same time, I turned my atten- 
tion to the more practical question of hard crackers, pork 
and cofiee. h? ^ * * * 

October 2Sth, 1863. 

Two weeks ago to-day, one of the neatest and most 

complete little successes of the war for our side, was 

achieved on the spot where I am writing, by General 

Warren and the Second Army Corps. It was Wednes- 



DRUM HEAD NOTES. lYY 

day, the 14th October. Our corps, which had bivouacked 
here the night before, marched that morning for Centre- 
ville We reached Manassas Junction at 10 A. M., 
crossed Bull Run at Blackburn's Ford at 12 M., and 
gained the heights of Centreville at 12J P. M., just half 
an hour ahead of the rebels. As we marched over the 
old Bull Run battle ground, the sound of cannonading 
from Bristow Station in our rear, and from the neighbor- 
hood of Thoroughfare Gap, on our left front, caused one 
of the most singular atmospheric effects I ever observed. 
There seemed to be a throbbing, palpitating noise, per- 
vading space, and causing the solid earth to quake and 
shudder, as if the buried dead of two battles were strug- 
ling to unearth themselves for a general resurrection of 
carnage. ****** 

Rappahannock Station, Nov. 2Qth. 
I thought I had seen mud about Harper's Ferry, and 
on Maryland Heights, but our march here from Bristow 
the other day has taught me a lesson in that respect. I 
refer more particularly to the last stage of it, between 
Bealeton and this place. The corduroy in many places 
actually floats — an unlucky horse who gets his foot in 
where a log has hopped out of place, instantly sinks to 
the shoulders. If, disgusted with the corduroy, and 
tempted by the firm looking ground on either side, 



178 OUR COUNTRY. 

untrodden, and covered with short gray moss, you think 
to pick your own way over it, down you go, befloundered 
and bemired. I should like some of those people who 
think it "stuff" to talk of an army's progress being 
seriously impeded by "a little mud," to come down and 
see the reserve artillery train, consisting of over five 
hundred wheeled carriages, with siege guns, forges, and 
caissons loaded with shot and shell, ploughing its way 
through these quagmires and quicksands. * 5j« >i« * 

December \(jth. 
Tattoo is now beating and blowing throughout all the 
camps of our corps — distant, feeble strains from the drum 
and bugles of other corps, more remote, leaking in now 
and then through an interval in the nearer din. Keveille, 
Retreat and Tattoo divide the soldier's day into three 
unequal periods, by a roll call and gush of martial music. 
Retreat is the least notable of the three in a musical point 
of view, being short, and usually merged with the Dress 
Parade, as part of that sun-down ceremony. It is at 
Reveille and Tattoo that drums, fifes and bugles delight 
to emulate each other, and surpass themselves. On the 
march, the hours for these calls are uniform. In camp, 
each regiment or brigade fixes its own time. In the 
former case, the soldier's dreams are abruptly drowned 
in a sudden and overwhelming torrent of tenor drums, 



DRUM HEAD NOTES. 179 

brass drums, bass drums, cavalry bugles, artillery 
trumpets, and ear-piercing fifes, coming up from all 
quarters, under the morning star and the pale waning 
moon, in a very Niagara of noise. Simultaneously as it 
breaks out, so it ceases. With its last note begins the 
hurried call of the roll by the Orderly Sergeant, from 
memory, — the company lines already formed — an un- 
washed company officer looking on apart — and then 
almost as suddenly as if by magic, hundreds of weird 
camp fires throw a ruddier glow into the face of the dawn, 
around each of which flit a dozen hungry forms, stooping 
over a tin cup of boiling coff"ee, or toasting a savory slice 
of fat pork on the end of a stick. Before many minutes, 
an orderly, sometimes a stafi" officer, gallops up to brigade 
head-quarters, from which immediately is heard the bugle 
call to "Fall in!" "Fall in," bawl the colonels, with 
mouths full of hard-tack. "Fall in," echo the captains 
in a fierce, bustling manner; and "fall in" it is, on all 
sides, — the lazy ones scalding their throats with a last 
gulp at the tin cup before it is hitched to the haversack, 
where, during a long laborious day's march it is to jingle 
and tinkle monotonously against the canteen. Knap- 
sacks are slung with a convulsive movement of frame, 
which wrenches out some expression of a character ofien- 
sive to ears polite. The line is formed, by the touch of 
the elbow only, if not yet light, If it is our good luck to 



180 OUR COUNTRY. 

be the advance regiment, we move off, directly after the 
brigade standard; otherwise we wait till the column 
moves by, to take our place in it. If still too dark to 
see, guided by the tramp, the hum, and the clink, so we 
march in the raw, frosty dawn; and sun-rise finds us five 
miles perhaps from where we heard the reveille. 

But in a sedentary camp, as I said before, there is no 
uniform and precise moment fixed for these calls to begin; 
and so the strain is heard passing from regiment to regi- 
ment, and from camp to camp, any time during an hour. 
Now is the opportunity for individualities to be developed. 
Now is heard a fashionable drum-corps, performing scien- 
tifically in a modern, Frenchy, tasty style, after the most 
approved pattern. Walks in upon this performance, and 
virtually suppresses it, a ponderous, old-fashioned bass- 
drum affair, reminding one of fishing-club excursions or 
militia musters. Fifes are now pitted against each other 
in fiercest rivalry. Choicest morceaux from some favorite 
opera delight the ear for awhile, when suddenly their toes 
are trodden upon by ''Villikins and his Dinah," or "Rory 
O'Moore," squeaked out from some neighboring camp, 
and then they plaintively subside into, "When this cruel 
war is over." Ever and anon is heard amid this conflict 
of melodies, some of the good old marching tunes which 
carried our fore-fathers, bare-footed, through the Revolu- 
tion; some which cheered the soldiers of Marlborough, in 



DRUM HEAD NOTES. 181 

Flanders; some which did duty so long ago as the days 
of Gustavus Adolphus, the father of the art of war. It 
is when beating to such music, that drum-sticks oftenest 
forget themselves, and become enthusiastic, and even 
fanatical in their energy. 

January 23fZ, 1864. 
The Southern Confederacy may now be likened unto a 
mighty tree, with the sharp axes of the woodmen ringing 
away at its trunk. Grant having hewn out a huge gash, 
has come to the rigid heart, and rests on his axe, to blow 
a spell. Opposite him, Meade has cut in until he has 
turned his edge upon a tough knot, and is now busy at 
the grindstone. Gillmore keeps pecking away at the 
bark, mainly to test the tenacity of the remaining fibres, 
and assist gravitation when chips enough have been cut 
out. A few withered leaves are all now left of its once 
green and luxuriant foliage. The rest have fallen in the 
shape of Confederate notes, sapless in consequence of the 
girdle of the blockade. And already a steady, sharp 
observation of the top-most branches will discover the 
commencement of that long expected, inevitable down- 
ward movement, which only seen at first at the extremity 
of the radius, where a slender net- work of twigs slowly 
moves across the clouds, will soon culminate in the 
crackle, the roar, and the thundering crash. 



16 



THE 



BLUE COAT OF THE SOLDIER, 



You asked me, little one, why I bowed, 

Though never I passed the man before ? 
1 because my heart was full and proud, 
When I saw the old blue coat he wore : 
The blue great coat, the sky blue coat, 
The old blue coat the soldier wore. 

1 knew not, I, what weapon he chose, 

What chief he followed, what badge he bore; 

Enough that in the front of foes. 

His country's blue great coat he wore: 
The blue great coat, etc. 

Perhaps he was born in a forest hut. 

Perhaps he had danced on a palace floor: 

To want or wealth my eyes were shut, 
I only marked the coat he wore: 
The blue great coat, etc. 



THE BLUE COAT OF THE SOLDIER. 183 

It mattered not much if he drew his line 
From Shem, or Ham, in the days of yore; 

For surely he was a brother of mine, 
Who for my sake the war-coat wore: 
The blue great coat, etc. 

He might have no skill to read or write, 

Or he might be rich in learned lore: 
Hut I knew he could make his mark in fight, 

And nobler gown no scholar wore 
Than the blue great coat, etc. 

It may be, he could plunder and prowl, 

And perhaps in his mood he scoffed and swore: 

Hut I would not guess a spot so foul 
On the honored coat he bravely wore: 
The blue great coat, etc. 

He had worn it long, and borne it far; 

And perhaps on the red Virginian shore, 
From midnight chill till the morning star. 

That warm great coat the sentry wore: 
The blue great coat, etc. 

^\''hen hardy Butler reined his steed, 

Through the streets of proud, proud Baltimore, 

Perhaps behind him, at his need. 

Marched he who yonder blue coat wore: 
The blue great coat, etc. 



184 OUR COUNTRY. 

Perhaps it was seen in Buruside's ranks 
When Rappahannock ran dark with gore; 

Perhaps on the mountain side with Banks, 
In the burning sun no more he wore 
The blue great coat, etc. 

Perhaps in the swamps "twas a bed for his form, 
From the seven days battling and marching sore; 

Or with Kearney and Pope, 'mid the steely storm, 
As the night closed in, that coat he wore: 
The blue great coat, etc. 

Or when right over as Jackson dashed, 

That collar or cape some bullet tore; 
Or when far ahead Antietam flashed, 

He flung to the ground the coat that he wore: 
The blue great coat, etc. 

Or stood at Gettysburg, when the graves, 
Bang deep to Howard's cannon roar: 

Or saw with Grant the unchained waves 
Where conquering hosts the blue coat wore: 
The blue great coat, etc. 

That garb of honor tells enough, 

Though I its story guess no more: 
The heart it covers is made of such stuS", 

That the coat is mail which that soldier wore: 
The blue great coat, etc. 



THE BLUB COAT OF THE SOLDIER. 185 

He may hang it up when the peace shall come 
And the moths may find it behind the door: 

But his children will point, when they hear a drum, 
To the proud old coat their father wore: 
The blue great coat, etc. 

And so, my child, will you and I, 

For whose fair home their blood they pour, 
Still bow the head, as one goes by, 
Who wears the coat that soldier wore: 
The blue great coat, the sky blue coat, 
The old blue coat the soldier wore. 



16* 



ON THE NAME AMERICA 



Our Country — What is the first thing about it? Its 
name of course. That is America. Though, as Euro- 
pean statesmen long since found out that "the safety of 
Europe required the division of America," it has cost us 
some care and contention to keep it; and there is an 
importance in the fact that we have kept it bearing on 
the unity of our nation, past, present and to come. 

It has been maintained by some of our literati, that 
since "United States" was no proper name, our country 
had none; and several were proposed. Of these Alle- 
ghania found most favor: English writers, in the mean 
time, were careful to so express themselves as to deny us 
any proper name. In the title of her History, "The 
Republic of America" therefore, the writer assumed for 
the nation, the name America; and defended her position 
in the following note now out of print. 

'We use the term "Republic of America," in the same 
manner as we would that of the Republic of Columbia. 
We conceive that America is as much a distinctive appel- 



ON THE NAME AMERICA. 187 

lation of the one country, as Columbia is of the other. 
Yet the fact is not universally, perhaps not generally 
acknowledged, except tacitly. 

'But in fact, the style assumed, at the Declaration of 
Independence, is not the United States merely, but the 
"United States of America," and it may be fairly pre- 
sumed that the term America is used in the same manner 
as in the expression, "the United States of Holland," or 
"the United States of Mexico," and that we may, except 
in formal state papers, abbreviate, and use only the last 
word. There are, it is true, inconveniences in bearing 
particularly the same name which is given to the whole 
continent generally; but nothing, by any means, new or 
absurd. The City of New York, in the State of New 
York, is not absurd, nor does any material inconvenience 
result from this use of words, as it is well understood; 
but if, while this was the real usage, it was not the 
avowed and acknowledged usage, there might be diffi- 
culties, and authors would fall into inconsistencies. To 
avoid such in the use of the term America, we have 
avowed what we consider its established, and therefore 
its proper use. 

'This name was assumed, at least as early as the com- 
mencement of our disputes with Great Britain. In the 
British Parliament and in our own Congress, our country, 
whether abused or defended, was called America; and 



188 OUR COUNTRY. 

that in a way to preclude the possibility of the term being 
used in its extensive sense as applying to the continent. 
"Whereas," say the first Congress, in the preamble to 
the Bill of Rights, "the British Parliament claims the 
right to bind the people of America in all cases," &c. 
The same style is used in all the other public documents 
of the time. The historian styles our armies, the Ameri- 
can troops; and our ministers, the American negotiators. 
The poet invokes the genius of our country under the 
name America. Our officers have led our troops to 
battle, under the impulse of addresses made to Americans; 
nor did the soldiers suspect these addresses to be made 
to their Canadian or Indian foes, as well as to themselves. 
Our orators call on Americans to defend the rights, 
bought with the blood of their fathers, nor do their 
hearers once imagine that they mean to include the 
inhabitants of European colonies, or of monarchical 
Brazil. No, the name America comes to our hearts with 
a nearer and dearer import. America is to us the only 
name which can conjure up the spell of patriotism, and 
by this token we know that it is, and is to be the name 
of our country. And it is a noble name; dignified in 
prose — harmonious in poetry; and marching as we are 
in the van of the nations which are forming within the 
precincts of the new world, why should not our country 



ON THE XAMB AMERICA. 189 

have the clistinguishiug honor to bear the same name as 
the continent?' 

That most honored patriarch of American history — 
Abiel Holmes, D. D., in kindly looking over the work 
for criticism, was attracted by this note, and the title- 
page of his celebrated work being yet under revision (for 
a new edition,) he changed it from "American Annals," 
to "Annals of America." He said the Union was the 
palladium of our strength; and disunion, most to be 
feared of all political calamities; that to have a name 
common to all, was a bond of union more difficult to break 
than any other; and if ever it should be temporarily 
broken, nothing would so powerfully tend to re-unite the 
severed parts. What this learned patriot of the Wash- 
ington school saw in vision, we devoutly hope, may ere 
long, become a reality. 

In 1828, the following article was inserted in the Troy 
Post: "Having seen, in an English periodical, the 
'Christian Observer,' what a spirit is manifested in regard 
to a name for our country, I felt that we. on this side of 
the Atlantic, should stand up for ourselves; and I there- 
fore send you what T was provoked to write, by reading 
the expressions in the English Observer referred to, 
which are as follows: ' We suggest to <dl writers and 
speakers, never to call the United States, America. SoDie 
vain American Unionists affect that title, hut it is not for 



190 OUR COUNTRY. 

US to yield it.^ I began to put down my cogitations on 
this unpalatable interdiction, in a ballad form, but only 
produced these two stanzas: 

To Jonathan said big John Bull — 
Of lordly pride his heart was full — 
Your farm was mine, and now I say 
It sha'nt be called America. 

Out spake bold Brother Jonathan, 
'Mind yours, and let my farm alone, 
For since you interfere, I say, 
It shall be called America." ' 

The remaining part of the article showed that America 
was already our name, and advised that we should not 
allow ourselves to be deprived of it. I had found, even 
in the little printed sheet before me, "The Troy Post," 
abundant means of fully proving my case, particularly in 
the advertisement of a then recent work, by the learned 
Germao historian, the Baron Von Reamer, entitled 
"America, and the American People:" and also, in an 
old Bay-State Thanksgiving Proclamation, which was 
taken from the Boston Almanac of 1776, where the name 
America was repeatedly used. Thus in its very birth- 
year, while its existence was yet numbered by months, 



ON THE NAME AMERICA. 191 

the Fathers of the nation, standing by its cradle, called 
the thrifty nursling "America." 

Is there any writer, on either side of the Atlantic, 
whose authority on this subject would be regarded as 
more decisive than that of Daniel Webster? '1 am an 
American," he says,* "I am against agitators. North and 
South ! I know no country but America, and no locality 
in America that is not my country! " What a glorious 
day will that be when these words shall be uttered with 
acclaim, by every voice from the Atlantic to the Pacific I 



* In the Senate, June 17th, ld5o. 



THEY'RE COMING GRANDAD.' 

A TALE OF EAST TENNESSEE.* 



'Neath the ruins of a rustic porch pavilioned o'er with 

vines, 
Through which the sunshine slanting down, made strange, 

grotesque designs, 
Made dancing shadows on the floor, and like spirit-hands 

caressed 
The hoary locks of an aged man, who sat him there to 

rest. 
From the open door there came no sound, of song or 

pattering feet, 
No tender, murmuring tones of home, his weary soul to 

greet; 
Under the eaves the swallows chirped, the bees droned on 

their way. 
But for him, that aged man, his house was desolate that 

day. 

* Copy-right secured by the Author. 



they're coming grandad. 193 

The household cat that used to fawn and doze upon his 

knee, 
The refuge she was wont to seek from the children's 

stormy glee, 
Stole past him now with furtive tread, and crept into her 

lair, 
While the sunshine creeping through the vines caressed 

his snowy hair. 
Silent he sat, and motionless, supreme amidst the wreck. 
Where blackened rafters told of flame; of blood, each 

crimson fleck, 
Where the grain, down trodden in the field, told of the 

brutal hoofs 
Of rebel troopers' wild foray; and of shells, the splintered 

roofs. 

^ But of all the ruin there was nought, that crushed the old 
man lone, — 
Of all the dear lives blotted out, the dear hopes over- 
thrown; 
Of all the loss in gold and goods, and his weary, woesome 

age- 
As did the blow that traitor hands, struck Freedom, in 

their rage. 
Through his thin and tattered garments, his wasted limbs 
appeared, 
17 



194 OUR COUNTRY. 

And the quivering of his hungry lips, shook his white 

and tangled beard, 
His blood-stained feet, his shoulders bowed, betokened 

misery — 
But an untamed spirit flashed like fire, from his dark and 

sunken eye. 

"God reigneth!" thus he mused, "and it's His mysterious 

way. 
That the darkest, blackest hour of night, comes just 

before the day; 
Now is the gall and bitterness, the passion of our pain; 
Lord ! strike the fetters from our limbs, avenge our loved 

ones slain." 
Fierce was the gleam that lit his face, while the sunshine 

on his head, 
Made him like a hoary prophet there, just risen from the 

dead: 
When lo ! swift footsteps echo near, in clasping arms he's 

pressed, 
And a young wan-face is hiding, with wild sobs upon his 

breast. 

"Is the dawn near?" he murmured low, as in a long 

embrace 
He held the ragged urchin close, and gently smoothed his 

his face: 



they're coming grandad. 195 

V *'Are they coming boy, the serried hosts, the legions of 

the Free, 
To hunt the traitors from the soil, of our dear Tennessee?" 
"They're coming Grandad!" sobbed the boy, my father 

with them, too; 
My mother sent me from the cave, to bring this news to 

you; 
They set the blood-hounds on his track, not knowing of 

his flight. 
But they tore my little sister's throat, and oh ! she died 

last night ! 

"Oh Grandad! I was sore afraid! Their eyes were fierce 

and wild, 
And a red froth glistened on their fangs, when they tore 

down the child; 
Her face was like to frozen snow, and she screamed in 

sad afi*right; 
The rebels then called off their hounds — too late — she 

died last night." 
The old man gasped, a shuddering sob, shook him from 

head to heel. 
He spoke no word, but his soul cried out to God in strong 

appeal — 
^'Then," said the boy, of "dog-wood flowers, and leaves 

we made her bed, 



196 OUR COUNTRY. 

And I came, and left my mother in the cave beside her 
dead;" 

For Grandad^ some one brought the news, that at the 

dawn of day, 
Full fifty thousand Union troops were marching down 

this way: 
Oh Grandad! when I hear their drums, and see against 

the sky 
The old flag waving in the wind, I think of joy I'll die! 
"Lord! Thou hast smote Thy servant, with afflictions 

burning seal. 
With fire, and sword, and martyrdom, my faith Thou 

doest anneal" — 
The old man slowly murmured, "Now I only ask of Thee, 
To live to see the 'Stars and Stripes,* wave o'er fair 

Tennessee ! 

V, Boy in the cushion of my chair, is the old State House 

Flag, 
That I stole ofi" the night before, the rebels raised their 

rag 
That shadowed all the air around, with its flaunting rebel 

bars. 
Where had floated like an angel's wing, the blessed 

Stripes and Stars. 



they're coming grandad. 197 

If my heart breaks before they come, stand thou upon 

my grave, 
And with the old flag in thy hand, above me, let it wave; 
Speak out for me in loud huzzas, that our brave troops 

may know, 
No traitor blood is in thy veins, no Judas sleeps below." 

While the old man spake, the sound of hoofs, came 
tramping down the lane, 

And three fierce rebel troopers soon drew up around the 
twain, 

And swearing in their savage mood, as from their features 
grim, 

They wiped away the sweat and dust, their leader ques- 
tioned him. 

"Where are thy sons, old grey-beard ? We're recruiting, 

dost thou heed ? 
For the South demands her stalwart men, in this, her 

hour of need." 

/'My sons!" quoth he, while a crimson spot flamed on 
each pallid cheek, 
"One shot they down sir, like a dog. for the brave words 
he did speak; 



17* 



198 OUR COUNTRY. 

Before his mother's frantic eyes, and his blazing home 

that day, 
He fell, and his life-blood crimsoned deep, the sword on 

which he lay." 

"Fit doom," the captain sneering said, "for a traitor to 

the South, 
They should have smote him with their heels, upon his 

traitor mouth." 

"My other son " "Aye what of him?" the rebel 

trooper said, 
"It is the living one we want, you're welcome to the 

dead." 

"He's been hiding in the mountain clefts, but now he'll 

soon be back, 
If not, call out your blood-hounds, sir, and set them on 

his track; 
I hear you have them of a breed, so savage and so wild. 
That when they can't bring down a man, they'll tear to 

death a child." 



"l^hus spake the old man's bitter wrath, as with out-flash- 
y 

ing scorn, 

His eye swept from the traitor's brow, adown his garments 

worn: 



they're coming grandad. 199 

The taunt shot home, and while the trooper's swarthy 

visage glow'red 
He sprang upon his aged foe, and smote him with his 

sword, 
Smote him upon his hoary head, where the sunlight softly 

gleamed. 
Where soon amidst the silver hair, a crimson fountain 

streamed ; 
The ragged urchin shrieked and fled, and then the 

troopers three, 
Swore he should "take the rebel oath, or swing on yonder 

tree." 

"Didst ever hear/' he calmly said, "in ages long remote, 
Of a Christian priest named Polycarp — nay do not grasp 

my throat — 
Who when the proud pro-consul bade him 'to curse God, 

or die,' 
He said: 'My Lord hath harmed me not, I will not him 

deny.' 
I'll take no oath! I've loved my country, through her 

weal and woe, 
I've fought beneath the 'Stars and Stripes,' from Maine 

to Mexico, 
And now that dastard sons have pierced her, in her hands 

and side. 



200 OUR COUNTRY. 

Shall I deny her, whom T worshipped in her days of 
pride?" 

"You'll have less breath for treason, when with hemp 
V your throat is drest, 

But tell me first, old Dotard, why you gaze towards the 

West?" 

"The Jews, proud rebel, towards the East, watch for the 

V coming king; 

I gaze towards the glowing West, for the succors it will 
bring." 

"Ho! ho! look not for succor there, 'tis the sunlight on 
'^ the pines, 

And not the gleaming bayonets, of the serried Yankee 
lines." 

"Well! well!" the old man bravely said, "it may not be 

to-day, 
But with Grod's and Andy Johnson's help, they'll soon 

march down this way." 

"Come, comrades!" cried the swarthy chief, "one of you 

V gag his mouth, 

And we'll hang him up — a warning — to the traitors of the 
South;" 



they're coming grandad. 201 

Then they dragged him from his old arm-chair, and 

bound him with a cord, 
When there came a sound upon the wind, and he 

whispered, "Thank Thee, Lord." 
'Tis not the wind among the pines, as the sound still 

nearer comes, 
But the blaze of trumpets, and the deep fierce utterance 

of drums, 
And the stately rhythm of a tramp, as of ten thousand 

feet, 
And the thunderers tones of loud bassoons, and cymbals 

clashing sweet. 

"They're coming Grandad!" screamed a voice, that from 
• a tree top rang; 

"The Yankees are upon us boys!" cried the rebels as 

they sprang 
Into their saddles, and swept down the thickly wooded 

lane. 
While the old man shouted wild huzzas, forgetful of his 

pain; 
"They're coming Grandad," still he bawled — that urchin 

from his roost. 
Then leaping o'er the furrowed field, his Grandad's arms 

unloosed ; 
And with a wild light in his eyes, and rapture on his 

face, 



• 



202 OUR COUNTRY. 

He hauled with glee the State House Flag, from its 
quaint hiding place. 

Up to the roof he swiftly sped, and to a rafter clung, 

As out upon the golden light, the "Stars and Stripes," 

he flung, 
And when the vet'rans caught its gleam, as they marched 

down through the pines, 
A shout from full ten thousand throats, rolled out along 

the lines. 
Then out upon the peaks, and cliffs, the hunted refugees, 
Came from their caves with Union Flags, flung wildly to 

the breeze, 
Their cries of joy, the thundering shouts, while the music 

madly roared, 
Roused the eagles from their eyrie, fiercely shrieking as 

they soared ! 

Then adown the purple hill sides, where the sun rays 
lingered yet, 

In long array of blue, and gold, and glistening bayonet, 

With the Old Flag waving far and wide, the symbol of 
the free, 

Came Burnside's legions sweeping down into East Ten- 
nessee. 

''Halt!" thundered down the weary lines, and the 
General said: ''Just there 



they're coming grandad. 203 

Where that old man sits so silently with the sunshine on 

his hair; 
Where that tattered urchin waves his flag from such a 

dizzy height; 
We shall find right loyal welcome, and we'll rest us there 

to-night." 

"That's my homestead," said a private, as he bared his 

heated brow: 
Though nought is left of its old cheer — for 'tis a ruin 

now, — 
You're welcome General, to its use, and my father waits 

to clasp 
Your hand, sir, with a blessing, in his warm and loyal 

grasp." 

But the old man's soul had passed away, his last exultant 

Had mingled with his country's strains, and the music of 

the sky, 
Then they wrapped him grandly in his Flag, when they 

heard his story told, 
And the General said: "a soldiers grave, we'll give this 

patriot bold." 



204 OUR COUNTRY. 

"They're coming Grandad," sobbed the boy, on the old 

man's silent breast; 
"With little Minnie on a bier, with dogwood blossoms 

drest, 
They're singing "Blessed are the dead," as from the 

mountain height 
The sunshine's golden torrents roll to crown her head 

with light; — 
In the Old Flag wrapped, she'll sleep with you, beneath 

the daisied sod; 
Oh Grandad! blood like yours, and hers, like Abel's, 

cries to God ! " 
Said the General, as beside the dead, he sternly bowed 

his knee, 
"Take heart my brave! such blood will bear rich fruits 

in Tennessee!" 

Then ere the golden sun had swept morn's crimson blush 

away, 
While the mocking bird among the vines still sang his 

roundelay, 
They laid the old man, and the child, together on the 

bier, 
Her brown curls stirring in the breeze, twined with his 

snowy hair. 
Her fair white cheek lay close to his, her little dimpled 

hands 



they're coming grandad. 205 

Folded together like a saint's, were bound with daisy 

bands — 
With the Old Flag draped about them both, the martyred 

ones were borne 
Unto their rest; while muffled drums, and the plaintive 

bugle horn. 
The sound of women weeping, and the sterner sobs of 

men, 
And the moaning of the pines above, made their sad 

requiem. 



Washington, Jan. 14th. 



18 



WHAT OUR COUNTRY WANTS. 



Amidst the bounties and blessings wliicb Providence 
has showered upon her, amidst the successes of her arms, 
and the assurance of a final triumph in her present 
struggle, our country wants one thing which is essential 
to the enjoyment of the one, and the maintenance of 
the otlier. And that is a i\ationality — her danger is 
in her very strength, in the vastness of her territory, 
the boundless resources of her wealth, and the multi- 
tude of her population. 

The Revolution left the feeble colonies united by a 
common sympathy, and a sense of common danger. That 
feeling wrought out the frame work of a common govern- 
ment, in the day when patriots and statesmen had control 
in the policy of the nation. But, for the last fifty years, 
we have been growing strangers and aliens to each other, 
from the remoteness at which we dwell from one another, 
and the diversity of the channels of our business and 
intercourse. Portland, in Maine, is, geographically, 
farther removed from her neighboring city of Portland, 



WHAT OUR COUNTRY WANTS. 20Y 

in Oregon, than she is from Antwerp or Paris. And in 
business, they are separated by half the circuit of the 
globe. 

The early generations that went out from the Atlantic 
States, to people the great West, have passed away, and, 
with them, the "fond remembrances of early homes; while 
others, born upon the soil, and busy with their own 
affairs, ignore the tie that once served to bind together 
the widening regions of a common country. 

But stronger in its influence even than this, is the 
crowd of distinct nationalities which have been attracted 
hither, by the cheapness of our soil and the freedom of 
our government, and now throng the rich regions of the 
West. Thousands upon thousands who share the pro- 
tection of our government, and thrive upon the benefits 
which they derive from its institutions, cannot speak the 
language in which our Constitution is written, or its laws 
are published. The only things which they have in 
common with the native citizens, are the air they breathe, 
the soil they cultivate, the freedom they enjoy, and the 
rewards of a well protected industry which they share. 
There is no common chord of sympathy by which they 
can be moved; and the German and the Irish, the Nor- 
wegian and the Swede are slow to learn that a new 
nationality is yet to be formed, of which they are to be 
an element and a part. 



208 OUE COUNTRY. 

Nor does the evil of this want of nationality stop with 
the mere weakening of the bond of union that binds the 
parts of our country together. It becomes, in the hand 
of designing men, an engine of positive mischief. It is 
made the source of sectional jealousies and local animosi- 
ties, under the influence of which, the pride of country is 
sacrificed to that of the State; and the prosperity of 
one region becomes an object of jealousy and ill-will in 
another. This feeling is, moreover, cherished by the 
more immediate connexion there is between the citizen 
and his immediate State, in every thing that concerns 
him in his domestic interests, and the share he has in its 
government, than that which the people generally have 
with the administration of the Federal Government. 

Mr. Calhoun had a field ready prepared at his hand, 
in which to cast the pestilent seed of State Rights, 
Nullification and Secession, under the guise of counter- 
acting a tariff which other sections of a common country 
thought it for her interest to maintain, and under a still 
more palpable and sensitive pretence of guarding a 
cherished, local institution against the freedom of the 
press and the popular voice of more prosperous regions. 

Add to all this the power which, in a country like 
ours, a few minds can practically exercise in controlling 
public opinion and feeling, and we can the more readily 
measure the importance of a sentiment of nationality 



WHAT OUR COUNTRY WANTS. 209 

which shall be to a people, what instinct and uneducated 
conscience is to the individual — which shall start up, 
unbidden, and prompt one to repel an attack upon the 
honor of his country, as he would upon the good nauie of 
the mother that bore him. 

But from the want of this training, in the growing 
strength and expansion of our country, we shall grow 
weaker every day, if the parts of this mighty whole 
cannot be bound more strongly and intimately together. 
Rail roads, domestic commerce, a common press, and 
the intercourse of individuals may do much. But there 
is something beyond all these required, to give vitality 
to that sensitiveness which goes to make up a proper 
national pride. Nor can we regard the very war in 
which we are engaged as otherwise than doing, in this 
respect, for our country, what no minor agency could 
eflfect. 

When the echo of the gun from Sumter was repeated — 
from every valley and hill-side in our land, it found the 
nationality of the people, asleep. But it was not dead. 
No shock, perhaps, less powerful would have aroused a 
nation of planters, and merchants, and mechanics, to the 
peril of seeing this great nationality crumbling and falling 
to pieces, and becoming the scorn of the old world, as the 
crippled members of a once mighty empire. Nor was 
this all. In the effort to restore the nation again to its 
18* 



210 OUK COUNTRY. 

integrity, the men of the loyal States forgot the lines that 
separated them in name. California and Minnesota. 
Maryland and New Hampshire followed the same flag 
into the battle, side by side, and shoulder to shoulder. 
And the men of Massachusetts and Illinois answered to 
the same watchword and countersign to the soldier from 
Ohio, as he stood sentry on the banks of the Mississippi, 
or among the wild fastnesses of Eastern Tennessee. It 
has been a nation's war, for a nation's glory, a nation's 
integrity, and a nation's independence. Europe has at 
last begun to measure with something of adequate esti- 
mate, the value of a nationality on this side the water, 
which, in her eagerness to see broken and dissevered, she 
had begun to despise, and looked forward to trample upon 
with impunity. 

It is the great lesson of the day. Come what will, it 
should never be forgotten, that our country, united, 
nationalized, animated by a common will for a common 
cause, will stand as peerless in power as she has been 
prosperous and free. 

The brain of the people should be taught, the heart of 
the people should be made to feel that the honor of the 
nation is in the charge of every freeman in the land. Let 
this lesson once be impressed upon the people of this 
country, and the world would learn to acknowledge that 
wherever her Starry Flag was floating, its folds sheltered 



WHAT OUR COUNTRY WANTS. 211 

whoever had a right to its protection. And that when- 
ever her voice was heard, it was the language of a nation 
that was willing to be just and magnanimous, while it 
knew how to maintain its honor, and enforce its rights. 



A VOICE. 



A VOICE comes wailing o'er the wave, 

From the dear land afar; 
Alas ! my country, that such wails 

Should reach us here so far; 
A trumpet note, a dread appeal, 

That shakes the throbbing world 
Until the pulse of human hearts 

Stands still, — the banners furled ! 

There was a vase, a golden vase. 

Hid in that forest green, ,. 
Held by a chain, but cloud- wrought links, 

Now melted into rain; 
The rain of human tears that fall, 

Because that vase is broken, 
In fragments lie the shattered bits 

Mournful and sad a token. 

A token of a Nation great, 

Of a great Nation's call, 
God ! we cry to Thee too late, 

But deign to hear our call. 



A VOICE. 213 



Alas ! the voice is wailing sad, 

O'er these blue fields of air; 
Echoed in billows from the sea; 

From the dear land afar. 
Alas ! my country, broken links 

In that bright chain are riven; 
We need the smile of God to cheer 

From these blue rents of Heaven. 



Written at Rome, 1862. 



BALTIMORE LONG AGO. 



Life has a double expanse; one in the past, the other 
in the future: the present is but a dividing line — an 
isthmus, rather, between two oceans. Our retrospects 
widen every day; our prospects grow narrow. 

I have come to that stage at which I live in the one 
as much as in the other; — puzzled to say whether I 
belong most to the antiques or the moderns. Why not 
confess it ? To come smoothly and cheerfully up to the 
"great climacteric," is, of itself a glory, — being an 
honest victory over time, and always a good token of a 
tranquil future. 

The past presents a mellow landscape to my vision, 
rich with the hues of distance, and softened by a sunny 
haze, that still retains that tint of the rose — now sobered 
a little into the neutral — with which youth and hope once 
set it aglow. The present is a foreground less inviting, 
with a growing predominance of sharp lines and garish 
colors wanting harmony. So, I follow the bent of my 
humor and, for a while, renounce the present, to indulge 



BALTIMORE LONG AGO. 215 

my affections in the dalliance of old memories. I detest 
these babblements of young America, and seek a refuge 
from its impertinent innovations in a genial remembrance 
of the older days of our city. 

'^Earth hath its bubbles as the water hath." Many 
break before our eyes, throwing into air their little 
volumes of cherished desires : many glide onwards upon 
the t^tream to meet that fate beyond our view, of which 
we too plainly see the certain token in the swelling of 
the brittle globe, and the jeopardy that grows with its 
increasing compass. 

These bubbles have been my study. 

It is my fortune, now and then, to encounter some 
long ripened and — I reproach myself for saying it — some 
long forgotten, object of my early passion, with whom, 
when every look had a mysterious sympathy that con- 
trolled the beat of my pulse, and every word a tone that 
found a musical echo in my heart, I was wont, in the old 
time, to dance quadrilles and country-dances. Waltz 
and redowa and polka had not then invaded the mannerly 
modest reserve of female toleration. How changed is 
this same toleration now ! Time is a ruthless conqueror ! 
Be on your guard, my good, ingenuous young friends. 
Txe victis! 

That whiloui neat little compend of wit and beauty 
which once inflamed my imagination by its vivacity and 



216 OUR COUNTRY. 

tenderness, its graceful outline, its aurora blush, its 
polished forehead, its jetty curls dipping to the round 
surface of an ivory shoulder — ah me, what has become 
of all these ! Circe has touched that beautiful conglom- 
erate with her wand. Who would believe in the identity 
of that past vision with this present domestic, motherly 
face, this superfluous double chin, this short, comfortable 
figure discreetly draped in supernumerary garments, and 
these four married daughters, respectable staid matrons, 
— the youngest of whom I sometimes meet in church with 
two boys draped like young Albanians! There is a 
remainder yet, I perceive, of that old roguish sparkle of 
the eye; and I think I discern the same lithe, well-turned 
figure, which I once followed with such devotion through 
the old ball rooms, in that grand daughter who is asking 
her mother my name, — as I perceive by her curious 
glance towards me. Not such ticklish ware, my old 
friend, I shrewdly guess, as in that triumphant day 
when you fancied you could banish me to the Desert of 
Arabia, by a frown ! My palpitations are not so distin- 
guishable now; and I would venture to remark that you 
have altogether a more charitable and generally benevo- 
lent human regard than when I first knew you. 

I can affirm with a clear conscience, that I approach 
these old time idols without disconcertment, and even with 
an intrepid memory of the awful intensity of that passion 



BALTIMORE LONG AGO. 217 

which I have, more than once, known to endure without 
intermission for full six weeks. I am even hardj enough 
now — which, perhaps, is unbecoming my years and ought 
not to be encouraged — to venture on a comparison between 
the mother and the errand daugfhter. with an evident lean- 
ing toward a preference for the latter. It is one of the 
beneficent illusions of age, that we are apt to count our- 
selves out of that march in which the world is stepping 
along towards venerable eld ; at least, to fancy that we go 
at less speed than others. 

I make several epochs in the onward, or rather I 
should say backward, course of my recollections. One 
of my earliest landmarks is the epoch of the old Court 
House. 

That was a famous building which, to my first cog- 
nizance, suggested the idea of a house, perched upon a 
great stool. 

It was a large, dingy, square structure of brick, 
elevated upon a massive basement of stone, which was 
perforated by a broad arch. The buttresses on either 
side of the arch supplied space for a stairway that led to 
the Hall of Justice above, and straddled over a pillory, 
whipping post and stocks which were sheltered under the 
arch, as symbols of the power that was at work up stairs. 

This magisterial edifice stood precisely where the 
Battle Monument now stands on Calvert Street. It has 
19 



218 OUR COUNTRY. 

a notable history, that old Court House. When it was 
first built it overlooked the town from the summit of the 
hill some fifty feet or more above the level of the present 
street, and stood upon a cliff which, northward, was 
washed at the base by Jones' Falls, — in that primitive 
day a pretty rural stream that meandered through 
meadows garnished with shrubbery and filled with brows- 
ing cattle, making a pleasant landscape from the Court 
House windows. 

Of all the functions of municipal care, that which 
begins earliest and is the last to end in a thriving town, 
is the opening and grading of streets. Corporate vanity 
finds its great vent in this exercise. The egotism of the 
young city runs into streets. It is the only department 
of government that seems to be animated with an intense 
foresight for the wants of the future. Taxes get in 
arrear, schools are postponed, hospitals are put oif, but 
the streets are always before hand. 

The old Calvert street came handsomely up the hill, 
all the way from the wharves to the Court House, and 
the wayfarer, when he arrived at this point, found himself 
on the cliff looking northward over a beautiful valley 
watered by the roving stream which glided smoothly 
against the granite rocks that formed a selvage to the 
park belonging to that good and gallant old cavalier. 
Colonel Howard, and diverging from the foot of the park 



BALTIMORE LONG AGO. 219 

came, by a sweeping circuit, through the meadow under 
the steep and sandy hills that overhung it on the west. 

The city fathers had grown tired of gazing over this 
scene of rural beauty, and had already begun to accuse 
the stream of an unbecoming departure from the true 
line of its duty. The circuit was an impertinence which 
called for correction. The surveyor's chain was already 
marking out a possible extension of Calvert street over 
the water course. The work was as good as done. 
Jones' Falls was whipped out of the meadow as an 
intruder, and consigned to a new channel cut along the 
cord of the circular segment which it had pursued before 
Columbus broke his egg, and the decree was sent forth 
for taking down twenty feet of the hill on which the 
Court House was perched. 

And now the great question arose touching the fate 
of this majestical temple of the law. Was the street to 
give way to the Court House, or the Court House to the 
street ? For a time that question convulsed the councils 
and the public. 

A mighty man in masonry in that day — Leonard 
Harbaugh by name — stepped forward: a man born to 
still great commotions of state. He maturely perpended 
the problem and amazed the whole generation of puzzled 
quid nuncs, including Mayor and City Council, Judges, 
Sheriffs and Clerks, with the brave proposal, at his own 



220 OUK COUNTRY. 

risk and responsibility, to preserve the Court House safe 
and sound after twenty feet were dug away beneath its 
foundations. The town could not have been more 
incredulous if he had proposed to suspend the honored 
building by a magnet in the air. But he was a man of 
will and confident in his genius, and so went courageously 
to work. 

All the old men, and all the boys, and all the idle 
negroes visited the work daily. Many shook their heads 
and watched to see the Court House tumble in ruins, and 
carefully "stood from under." But, day by day, Leonard 
adroitly knitted the masonry into buttress and arch, and, 
in good time, emerged that figure I have already 
described, of the old Court House quaintly seated upon 
its ponderous and solid bench of stone. Why is there no 
full length portrait of the doughty Leonard Harbaugh 
hanging in the City Hall ? Alas, our true men of might 
find no place in the galleries consecrated to the encourage- 
ment of the growth of shams ! Both Leonard and his 
work, the old Court House, have gone into dead oblivion. 

The street commissioners came along once more, and 
decreed another reduction of hill. Another twenty feet 
or more were required. The Court House had grown 
mouldy and superannuated; stock, pillory and whipping 
post had gone out of fashion: Baltimore had become more 
ambitious Stately buildings began to engross the square. 



BALTIMORE LONG AGO. 221 

The new Court House arose, — a model of architectural' 
magnificence to the eye of that admiring generation, only 
second to the National Capitol — and the old one was 
carted away as the rubbish of a past age. Calvert street 
straggled onward to the granite hills. People wonder to 
hear that Jones' Falls ever rippled over a bed now laden 
with rows of comfortable dwellings, and that cows once 
browzed upon a meadow that now produces steam engines, 
soap and candles and lager beer. 

Still dear to me is the memory of the old Court House. 
I have a sober faith that the people of the days of the 
old Court House and the old Court House days themselves 
had more spice in them, were more genial to the kindlier 
elements that make life worthy to be loved, than any days 
we have had since 

The youth of a city, like the youth of a man, has a 
keener zest for enjoyment and finds more resource for it 
than mature age. Use begets a fastidious appetite and 
disgust for cheap pleasures, whilst youth lives in the 
delight of constant surprises and with quick appreciation 
and thankful reception of novelties. 

Next after the old Court House, and in vivid associa- 
tions far ahead of it, my most salient memory comes up 
from the old Play House. We had not got into the 
euphuism of calling it *'the theatre" in those days, or, at 
least, that elegance was patronized only by the select few 
19* 



222 OUR COUNTRY. 

who in that generation, like the select few of the present, 
were apt to be caught by the fancy of a supposed refine- 
ment in the substitution of Greek for the Anglo-Saxon. 
The Spectator and Rambler and the Vicar of Wakefield 
supplied the vocabulary of that era, and I think Addison, 
Johnson and Goldsmith generally followed Ben Jonson 
and Shakespeare, and taught people to call it the Play 
House. I dare say the actors — especially the young ones 
who were proud of their calling and were inclined to strut 
in speech as well as on the boards — had, even then, begun 
to naturalize the new word. But there is such a perfume 
lingering about the old vernacular, — the aroma of flowers 
planted by it when all the world was fragrant to me — 
that I cannot give it up without risk of dulling the 
husbandry which yet keeps these fine odors alive. 

"The theatre" would bring me to a later period, when 
the foot-lights were no longer fed with oil, when the glass 
diamonds and tinsel had lost their reality, and the stage 
had begun to reveal its tawdry secrets, to the disenchant- 
ment of that beautiful school-boy faith with which I 
plunged into this weird world oi f eerie. 

This Play House stood in Holiday street just where the 
present "theatre" now stands. What a superb thing it 
was ! — speaking now as my fancy imagined it then. It 
had something of the splendor of a great barn, weather- 
boarded, milk white, with many windows and, to my 



BALTIMORE LONG AGO. 223 

couception, looked with a hospitable, patronizing, tragi- 
comic greeting down upon the street. It never occurred 
to me to think of it as a piece of architecture. It was 
something above that — a huge, mystical Aladdin lamp 
that had a magic to repel criticism, and filled with 
wonderful histories. There Blue Beard strangled his 
wives and hung them on pegs in the Blue Chamber; 
and the glorious Valentine overcame his brother Orson, 
by the clever trick of showing him his own image in a 
wonderful shield of looking-glass, which, of course, we 
believed to be pure burnished silver; and there the Babes 
in the Wood went to sleep under the coverlet provided for 
them by the charitable robins that swung down upon 
wires, — which we thought was even superior to the ordi- 
nary manner of flying; and the ghost of Gaffer Thumb 
came up through the floor, as white as a dredge-box of 
flour could make him — much more natural than any com- 
mon ghost we had seen. Alas, what has become of Oreo- 
brand's Cave and the Wood Demon and the Castle 
Spectre, and all the rest of those delightful old horrors 
which used to make our hair stand on end in delicious 
ecstasy in those days ? This reflection gives me rather a 
poor opinion of the modern drama, and so I do not look 
much after it. In fact, I suspect this age to be greatly 
behind ours in these terrible fascinations. Young America 
is evidently not so easily scared as old America was: it 



224 OUR COUNTRY. 

has a sad propensity towards fast trotters and to that 
wretched business of driving buggies, which has spoiled 
the whole generation of young gentlemen, and made a 
good cavalry officer, just now, an impossibility or, at least, 
a virtuous exception in one-half of the country. The age 
is too fast for the old illusions, and the theatre now deals 
in respectable swindlers, burglars and improper young 
ladies as more consonant with the public favor than our 
old devils, ghosts and assassins, which were always shown 
in their true colors, and were sure to be severely punished 
when they persecuted innocence. 

The players were part and parcel of the play-house, 
and therefore shared in the juvenile admiration with 
which it was regarded. In fact, there was a misty con- 
fusing of the two, which destroyed the separate identity 
of either. The play-house was a compound idea of a 
house filled with mountains, old castles and cities and 
elderly gentlemen in wigs, brigands, fairies and demons, 
the whole making a little cosmos that was only connected 
with the world by certain rows of benches symmetrically 
arranged into boxes, pit and gallery, where mankind were 
drawn by certain irresistible affinities to laugh and weep 
and clap their handS; just as the magicians within should 
choose to have them do. 

Of course, there was but one play-house and one 
company of actors. Two or more would have destroyed 



BALTIMORE LONG AGO. 225 

that impression of the super-natural, or rather the extra- 
natural, which gave to the show its indescribable charm. 
A cheap and common illusion soon grows stale. Christy's 
Minstrels may be repeated every night, and people will 
only get tired of the bad jokes and cease to laugh; — but 
Cinderella and her glass slipper would never endure it. 
The fairy bubbles would burst, and there would be no 
more sparkling of the eyes of the young folks with the 
delight of wonder. Even Lady Macbeth, I believe, 
would become an ordinary sort of person in "a run" — 
such as is common now. The players understood this, 
and, therefore, did not allow themselves to grow too 
familiar. One company served Baltimore and Phila- 
delphia, and they had their appointed seasons — a few 
months or even weeks at a time, — and they played only 
three times a week. '*The actors are coming hither, my 
lord," would seem to intimate that this was the condition 
of things at Elsinore — one company and a periodical 
visit. There was a universal gladness in this old Balti- 
more when the word was passed round — "the players are 
come." It instantly became every body's business to 
give them a good reception. They were strange creatures 
in our school-boy reckoning — quite out of the common 
order of humanity. We ran after them in the streets as 
something very notable to be looked at. It was odd to 
see them dressed like gentlemen and ladies: almost incon- 



226 OUK COUNTRY . 

gruous, we sometimes thought, as if we expected to see 
them in slashed doublet and hose, with embroidered 
mantles and a feather in their caps. "There goes Old 
Francis," was our phrase; not that he was old, for he was 
far from it, but because we loved him. It was a term of 
endearment. And as to Jefferson I Is there any body 
now who remembers that imp of ancient fame ? I cannot 
even now think definitely of him as a man — except in 
one particular, that he had a prominent and rather 
arching nose. In regard to every thing else he was a 
Proteus — the nose always being the same. He played 
every thing that was comic and always made people 
laugh till tears came to their eyes. Laugh ! Why, I 
don't believe he ever saw the world doing any thing else. 
Whomsoever he looked at laughed. Before he came 
through the side scenes when he was about to enter 
0. P. or P. S., he would pronounce the first words of 
his part to herald his appearance, and instantly the whole 
audience set up a shout It was only the sound of his 
voice. He had a patent right to shake the world's 
diaphragm which seemed to be infallible. No player 
comes to that perfection now. Actors are too cheap, 
and all the hallucination is gone. 

When our players came, with their short seasons, their 
three nights in the week, and their single company, they 
were received as public benefactors, and their stay was a 



BALTIMORE LONG AGO. 22*7 

period of carnival. The boxes were engaged for every 
night. Families all went together, young and old. 
SiL'iles were on every face: the town was happy. The 
elders did not frown on the drama, the clergy levelled 
no cannon against it, the critics were amiable. The chief 
actors were invited into the best company, and I believe 
their personal merits entitled them to all the esteem that 
was felt for them. But, amongst the young folks the 
appreciation was far above all this. With them it was 
a kind of hero worship prompted by a conviction that the 
player was that manifold creature which every night 
assumed a new shape, and only accidentally fell into the 
category of a common mortal. And therefore, it seemed 
so interesting to us to catch one of them sauntering on 
the street looking like other people. That was his excep- 
tional character, and we were curious to see how he 
behaved in it — and, indeed, thought him a little awkward 
and not quite at his ease in that guise. How could old 
Francis be expected to walk comfortably in Suwarow 
boots and a stove-pipe hat — he who had, last night, been 
pursuing Coluuibine in his light suit of triangular patch 
work, with his wooden sword, and who so deftly dodged 
the police by making a somerset through the face of a 
clock, and disappearing in a chest of drawers; or who, the 
night before that, was a French dancing master, and ran 



228 OUR COUNTRY. 

away with a pretty ward of a cross old gentleman, who 
wanted to marry her himself! 

It has always struck me that the natural development of 
player life has something very grotesque in it. It amounts 
almost to transmigration. The public knows an actor only 
on the boards, and there he is so familiarly known as, in 
fact, to make that his only cognizable existence, We see 
him to-day in one stage of his progress, to-morrow in 
another. He is never continuously the same person — 
often totally a different and most opposite one — so different 
in quality, costume, deportment, that all identity has dis- 
appeared. It looks like metempsychosis. Francis began — 
or was transmuted into it, at some early epoch of his life — 
as Harlequin and he grew and grew, through successive 
states of existence, into a Turkish Bashaw, and finally 
developed into a fine Sir Peter Teazle, from which full 
blown perfection he vanished out of the sphere of mortal 
ken. What was the growth of the man Francis, few 
persons gave themselves the trouble to inquire, though I 
am quite sure he had a manhood as worthy of being 
esteemed as the most of us; — but the gradual evolution of 
that mythic being, whose nightly apparition before the 
foot-lights enchanted our merry world, through all the 
metamorphosis of dramatic development, was as notable 
and conspicuous, within its orbit, as the career of Daniel 
Webster. It was the only Francis ninety-nine out of a 



BALTIMORE LONG AGO. 229 

hundred knew any thing about ; the only one, we of the 
younger and simpler sort conceived to be natural or even 
possible. 

The growth of a City is a natural process which creates 
no surprise to those who grow with it, but it is very 
striking when we come to look back upon it and compare 
its aspect at different and distant eras. If I had been 
away during that long interval which separates the past, 
I have been describing, from the present, I doubt if I 
should now find one feature of the old countenance of the 
town left. Every thing is as much changed as if there 
was no consanguinity, or even acquaintance, between the 
old and the new. 

In the days I speak of, Baltimore was fast emerging 
from its village state into a thriving commercial town. 
Lots were not yet sold by the foot, except, perhaps, in 
the denser marts of business; — rather by the acre. It 
was in the rus-in-urhe category. That fury for levelling 
had not yet possessed the souls of City Councils. We 
had our seven hills then, which have been rounded off 
since, and that locality, which is now described as lying 
between the two parallels of North Charles Street and 
Calvert Street, presented a steep and barren hill-side, 
broken by rugged cliffs and deep ravines washed out, by 
the storms of winter, into chasms which were threaded by 
paths of toilsome and difficult ascent. On the summit of 
20 



230 OUR COUNTRY. 

one of these cliffs, stood the old Church of St. Paul's, 
some fifty paces or more to the eastward of the present 
church, and surrounded by a brick wall that bounded on 
the present lines of Charles and Lexington Streets. This 
old building, ample and stately, looked abroad over half 
the town. It had a belfry tower detached from the main 
structure, and keeping watch over a grave-yard full of 
tombstones, remarkable, — to the observation of the boys 
and girls, who were drawn to it by the irresistible charm 
of a popular belief that it was ''haunted," — for the 
quantity of cherubim that seemed to be continually crying 
above the death's heads and cross bones, at the doleful 
and comical epitaphs below them. 

The rain-washed ravines from this height supplied an 
amusement to the boys, which seems to have been the 
origin of a sport that has now descended to their grand- 
children in an improved and more practical form. These 
same hills are now cut down into streets of rapid descent, 
which in winter, when clothed in ice and snow, are filled 
with troops of noisy sledders who shoot, with the speed of 
arrows, down the slippery declivity. In my time, the 
same pranks were enacted on the sandy plains of the 
cliff, without the machinery of the sled, but on the unpro- 
tected breeching of corduroy, — much to the discontent of 
mothers who had to repair the ravage, and not always 



BALTIMORE LONG AGO. 231 

without the practice of fathers upon the same breeching, 
by way of putting a stop to this expensive diversion. 

The little river — the Falls as it was always called — 
gurgled along with a flashing current at the foot of these 
hills, washing that grassy cantlet, which every body 
knew as "the meadow," over which Calvert Street now 
flings its brick and mortar, and where the rail road 
station usurps the old time pasture ground of the village 
cows. Hard by the margin of this stream, "the spring" 
gushed forth in primeval beauty, from the curtilage of a 
low-browed, rustic cottage, shaded by its aboriginal tree, 
which in time was rooted up, to be supplanted by the 
pillared dome which now lingers a forsaken relic, depend- 
ant upon the slow charity of the City fathers to save it 
from pick-axe and spade and the overwhelming masonry 
of modern improvement. 

The stream, in its onward flight from this point, eddied 
under the high bank that supported the Court House, 
and, turning swiftly thence, foamed and dashed at the 
base of a precipice, on the top of which stood the Presby- 
terian Church, — only lately resolved into its original dust, 
to make room for the new Court-room, which Uncle Sam, 
quite regardless of the threat of Mr. Jeffferson Davis to 
liberate Maryland, is fast rearing up to administer the 
laws of the "more perfect Union," which rebellion has 
been so savagely intent upon making n.ore imperfect. 



232 OUR COUNTRY. 

These are some of the more noteworthy changes which 
have crept over the physical aspect of the City. Those 
in its moral and social aspect are even more observable. 
As communities grow in density and aggregation, the 
individuality of men diminishes. People attend to their 
own concerns and look less to their neighbors. Society 
breaks into sects, cliques and circles, and these supersede 
individuals. In the old time, society had its leaders, its 
models and dictators. There is always the great man of 
the village; — seldom such a thing in the City. It was 
the fashion then to accord reverence and authority to age. 
That is all gone now. Young America has rather a 
small opinion of its elders, and does not patronise fathers 
and mothers. It knows too much to be advised, and gets, 
by intuition, what a more modest generation found it 
hard enough to get by experience. If we could trace 
this notion through all its lodgments, we should find that 
this want of reverence and contempt of obedience is the 
deepest root of this mad rebellion. 

Baltimore had passed out of the village phase, but it 
had not got out of the village peculiarities. It had its 
heroes and its fine old gentlemen, and its accomplished 
lawyers, divines and physicians, and its liberal, public- 
spirited merchants Alas ! more then than now. The 
people all knew them and treated them with amiable 



BALTIMORE LONG AGO. 233 

deference. How sadly we have retrograded in these 
perfections ever since ! 

Society had a more aristocratic air than now — not 
because the educated and wealthy assumed more, but 
because the community itself had a better appreciation of 
personal worth, and voluntarily gave it the healthful 
privilege of taking the lead in the direction of manners 
and in the conducting of public affairs. This was, 
perhaps, the lingering characteristic of colonial life, which 
the revolution had not effaced, — the, as yet, unex- 
tinguished traditional sentiment of a still older time — of 
which all traces have been obliterated by the defective 
discipline of succeeding generations. 

The retrospect which carries me back to that jocund 
time, when I admired and loved that old society, is full 
of delight and sadness. I have a long score of pleasant 
recollections of the friendships, the popular renowns, the 
household charms, the honhommie, the free confidences 
and the personal accomplishments of that day. My 
memory yet lingers with affectionate delay in the wake of 
past notabilities, male and female, who have finished 
their voyage and long ago, I trust, found a safe mooring 
in that happy haven, where we fondly expect to find them 
again when we ourselves shall have furled our sails and 
secured an anchorage on that blessed shore. Bating the 
ravages which time has made in the ranks of my compeers 
20* 



234 OUR COUNTRY. 

and comrades, it is a precious bit of the field of human 
life to contemplate. But those ravages! How few of 
the glories of that day remain. Some cord has snapped 
every year — even, as we advance, every month; — and, at 
each break, a dear friend, a familiar face, a genial form, 
upon which we were wont to hang our affections like 
garlands, has dropt out of sight and become a memory. 
A few sea-worn barks still sail on. 

I grow too serious for the cheerful theme which my 
outset promised. Let me get back to my appointed task. 

It was a treat to our ancestors to look upon this little 
Baltimore town springing forward with such elastic bound 
to be something of note in the Great Republic. They 
saw it just after the war of the Bevolution, giving its first 
promise — a bustling, ambitious, I might say, rollicking 
young aspirant for municipal honors — growing rapidly, 
like a healthy boy, fat and frolicsome, and bursting incon- 
tinently out of his clothes in spite of all allowance of 
seam and selvage. Market Street (this has grown obso- 
lete now — they call it Baltimore Street,) had shot like 
a snake out of a toy box, up as high as Congress Hall, (I 
forgot that Congress Hall, which stood between Sharp 
and Liberty, has also vanished,) with its variegated 
range of low-browed, hip-roofed wooden houses, standing 
forward and back, out of line, like an ill-dressed regi- 
ment, — as a military man would say. Some houses 



BALTIMORE LONG AGO. 235 

were painted blue, some yellow, some white, and, here 
nnd thore, a more pretending mansion of brick, with 
windows after the pattern of a multiplication table, square 
and many-pained, and great wastes of wall between the 
stories ; some with court-yards in front, and trees in 
whose shade truant boys and ragged negroes "skyed 
coppers" and played at marbles. 

This avenue was enlivened with matrons and damsels; 
some with looped-up skirts, some in brocade luxuriantly 
displayed over hoops, with comely boddices supported by 
stays disclosing perilous waists, and with sleeves that 
clung to the arm as far as the elbow, where they were 
lost in ruffles that stood off like the feathers of a bantam. 
The whirligig of time has played its usual prank and 
brought these ghosts of the past back into the very same 
avenue. And then, such faces! so rosy, spirited and 
sharp; — with the hair drawn over a cushion — (they called 
it neither ''cat' nor 'rat,' my dear young lady, but simply 
by the name I give it) — tight enough to lift the eyebrows 
into a rounder curve, giving a pungent, supercilious 
expression to the countenance; and curls that fell in 
"cataracts" upon the shoulders, (much prettier, my 
pretty friend, than those netted 'beaver tails' you fancy.) 
Then, they stepped away in such a mincing gait, in shoes 
of many colors with formidable points at the toes and high 
tottering heels delicately cut in wood, and in towering 



236 OUR COUNTRY. 

peaked hats, garnished with feathers that swayed aristo- 
cratically backward and forward at each step, as if they 
took pride in the stately paces of the wearer. 

In the train of these goodly groups came the gallants 
who upheld the chivalry of the age; — cavaliers of the 
old school, full of starch and powder: most of them the 
iron gentlemen of the Revolution, with leather faces — old 
campaigners, renowned for long stories, — not long enough 
from the camp to lose their military briisquerie and dare- 
devil swagger; proper, roystering blades who had not 
long ago got out of harness and begun to affect the 
elegancies of civil life. Who but they! — jolly fellows, 
fiery and loud, with stern glance of the eye and brisk 
turn of the head, and swash-buckler strut of defiance, 
like game cocks, all in three cornered cocked-hats and 
powdered hair and cues, and light-colored coats with 
narrow capes and long backs, and pockets on each hip, 
small clothes and striped stockings, shoes with great 
buckles, and long steel watch chains suspending an agate 
seal, in the likeness to the old sounding boards hung 
above the pulpits. And they walked with such a stir, 
striking their canes upon the pavement till it rang again. 
I defy all modern coxcombry to produce any thing equal 
to it. There was such a relish of peace after the war, so 
visible in every movement. It was a sight worth seeing, 
when one of these weather-beaten gallants accosted a lady 



BALTIMORE LONG AGO. 237 

on the street. There was a bow which required the 
whole width of the pavement, a scrape of the foot and the 
cane thrust with a flourish under the left arm and pro- 
jecting behind in a parallel line with the cue. And 
nothing could be more piquant then the lady's return of 
this salutation, in a curtsy that brought her, with bridled 
chin and a most winning glance, half way to the ground. 
And such a volume of dignity ! 

It was really a comfort to see a good housewifely 
matron of that merry time, trudging through town in bad 
weather, wrapped up in a great 'roquelaire,' her arms 
thrust into a huge muff, and a tippet wound about her 
neck and shoulders in as many folds as the serpent of 
Laocoon, a beaver hat close over her ears, and her feet 
shod in pattens that lifted her above all contact with mud 
and water, clanking on the sidewalks with the footfall of 
the spectre of the Bleeding Nun. 

Even the seasons were on a scale of grandeur unknown 
to the present time. There were none of your soft Italian 
skies and puny affectation of April in December. But 
winter strutted in, like a peremptory bandit on the stage, 
as one who knew his power and wasn't to be trifled with, 
and took possession of sky and field and river in good 
earnest, flinging his snowy cloak upon the ground as a 
challenge to all comers, determined that it should lie 
there until he chose to take it up and continue his 



238 OUR COUNTRY. 

journey. And the nights seemed to be made on purpose 
for frolicks — they were so bright and crisp, and so in- 
viting to the jovial spirits of the time who, crowded in 
sleighs, sped like laughing phantoms over every highway, 
echoing back the halloos of groups of boys that, at every 
street corner greeted them with vollies of snow-balls. 
And the horse-bells jangling the music of revelry from 
many a near and many a distant quarter, told of the 
universal mirth that followed upon the track of the old- 
fashioned winter. 

Baltimore has altered since those merry days. It has 
grown up, since then, from a jovial, bustling little town 
into the dimensions of a fair city. The stages of that 
growth have been rapidly passed. Every year has wit- 
nessed a visible encroachment of the suburbs on the 
surrounding country, and every score of years the doub- 
ling of the number of the inhabitants. To my perception, 
the departure of each generation carried with it some 
precious remainder of the quality which made Baltimore 
an abode to be chosen by those who seek ' 'to cast their 
lines in pleasant places." 

It is no querulous temper nor predilection of age which 
prompts me to say that the later time has not repaired the 
losses of the old. I would not offend the present by 
comparison with the past: I simply note a fact in which , 
perhaps, some calm thinker may find a useful moral. 



BALTIMORE LONG AGO. 239 

There was more public spirit in the young Baltimore than 
in the grown up City, and it was nursed by nobler men. 
There was a grander race of merchants in those days; 
— don't be offended, my worthy friends of the Exchange, 
there is a broad space below the top line of that old 
company, which may be occupied without disparagement 
to your respectability; — they were larger in their views, 
and larger in their hearts, — gave more time and money 
to public enterprise, were more elegant and more generous 
in their convivialities, more truly representative of a 
refined upper class, more open of hand and more kind to 
the world, than any society we have had since. I speak 
of society as an aggregate, because I desire to leave room 
for individual exceptions in which the old spirit survives. 
They were of the Venetian stamp, and belonged to the 
order of what the world calls merchant princes; — not so 
much in magnificence as in aim and intention. What a 
roll could I call of those departed spirits who made their 
names the favorite household memories of Maryland and 
famous in the history of commercial venture in every port 
of Europe, and down along the coasts of either continent 
"to utmost Indian isle." 

And then, passing from the merchants to the old 
Bench and Bar — what a galaxy of talent and learning 
and eloquence was there ! What grand, joyous, keen- 
witted, sparkling good fellows got together in that old 



240 OUR COUNTRY. 

Court House and the new ! — on such good brotherly terms 
with each other, so proud of each other; and in that little 
Academy of Themis, numbering not over some two or 
three score of barristers, judges, clerks, students and 
all, such an extraordinary proportion of notabilities, of 
renown throughout the nation — enough to give a repu- 
tation to half a dozen cities. 

We had divines and physicians, too, who could face all 
the colleges of to-day and make them envious of the excel- 
lence which their most eager ambition would be satisfied 
to attain for themselves. Certainly, the City now fails in 
its emulation of that old time vigor of mental activity 
which made the former Baltimore so note-worthy in all 
its departments of municipal life. But this is casual 
and may be better by and by. Men of mould come in 
cycles, and we are in apogee just now. Wait awhile, 
and the wheel of time will bring better conditions around 
again. I prophecy something good from this great cata- 
clysm of rebellion, which seems to be the travail of a 
healthful purification and the dawn of a new life for 
Baltimore. We are undergoing a very stern and solemn 
reformation which, if I mistake not, will evolve much 
new faculty with much prolific opportunity, in the future. 

What is notable now is, that the City is care-worn 
and contentious. It is unpleasantly characterised by a 
struggle between generosity and selfishness: — many ready 



BALTIMORE LONG AGO. 241 

to give every thing and do every thing for the sake of the 
country in its need; many who will give and do nothing. 
It is cloven by faction, and it is more than the true men 
and women can do, by any persuasion or example, to 
keep it on decent terms of social toleration. There are 
sorrowful variances amongst us. Dissension has crept 
up to the verge of the altars, and invaded the firesides 
of the City, tainting both with an infection that good 
Christians are not accustomed to allow in such sanctuaries* 
Rebellion has vitiated the atmosphere of the market place, 
and flaunts its symbols on the street. Old friends keep 
apart, pass with unpleasant glances, or converse together 
without a topic and with a strange constraint. There 
was one point three years ago, upon which they had a 
difference of opinion — and this was a fountain of discord. 
What was it? Reducing the cause of quarrel to its 
simple element, as we sift it out of the protocols or 
counter-propositions which preluded the breaking out of 
this insane civil war, in the discussions of the opposing 
parties in Congress, it was neither more nor less than 
this: — Shall we have the privilege to plant Slavery in the 
bosom of the new communities which, in future time, are 
to inhabit that broad domain lying between the Lakes 
and the Rocky Mountains, and condemn that coming 
empire to endure the curse which, in old time, we com- 
plained against Great Britain for inflicting upon us? 
21 



242 OUR COUNTRY. 

The nation said no. And, thereupon, many in Balti- 
more thought there was sufl&cient reason for destroying 
our Great Republic! Marvellous, that any man or 
woman in Baltimore should even grow angry upon such 
a privation as this ! Then, as the war goes on, things, 
of course, get worse ; for rebellion is always creating 
new exasperations: it is, in its mildest type, a rough 
experiment, and not at all, as romantic young ladies 
think, sprinkled with rose-water. And so, we divide and 
become unhappy. Perhaps time will clear away the mist, 
and people, in Maryland at least, will see the folly of 
fighting for slavery in the Kocky Mountains and, in the 
end, the nation grow the stronger and the purer for this 
outbreak. 

I perceive I am rambling towards a topic that might 
carry me into a long discourse. So I come to a halt, lest 
I should destroy the flavor of these kindly memories I 
would fain preserve for the pleasure of those who like to 
hear of Baltimore Long Ago. 



THE 

FLOWKR 4ND LEAF INTERPRETED. 

"Once, to every man and nation, comes the moment to decide." 

Lowell, 

The Rose and Leaf, since Chaucer's hand 
Loosened our English rhymthic flow, 

In poet's phrase, forever stand 

Types of true worth, or empty show. 

Temptation's self, the brittle Rose 

Casts richest worship to the winds; ' 
The Leaf's deep green unfading glows. 

Fast shrine of all adoring minds. 

A poet's dream, of knightly times; 

A simple moral, sweetly told — 
Chivalry's song, whose deep, rude chimes 

Teach every age, both new and old. 

Ho ! soul's broad table lands^ among 
Whose gusty tops live master-minds, 

Whose thunders roll through Milton's song, 
Where sense is dazed, and waking, finds 



244 OUR COUNTRY. 

A starlit world, the clouds above 

Fantastic forests, fairy dells 
Aglow with Una's face of love; — 

Hills, where the only Shakespeare dwells 

Amid his ''fair humanities." 

Ye but inspire; in vales of song 
Below your trackless sceneries, 

Man's simple battle-hymns belong. 

Again to-day with mailed hand 

Beck'ning the poet's pageant forth, 
The age of Force cries through the land, 

"Choose 'twixt fair show and solid worth," 

Inspired bequests of that rare age. 

When Force with Mind held equal sway, 

Ye have no charm from sin to save — 
The Beautiful makes no man pray. 

Interpret rather, cries the Voice, 

For this unhallowed age, such lay 
As sharpest teaches only "choice;" — 

There self, here Christ's pure aye and nay. 

A signal I The sword from its rusty niche dropping. 
Rings loud 'mid the revels of a nation's young pride; 

A silence —suspicion from eye to eye glancing. 
Then true man and traitor for combat divide. 



THE FLOWER AND LEAF INTERPRETED. 245 

'Tis well — for Humanity needs crucifixion 

Of parchments, as all lighter loves of the heart; 

From the blood of crushed manhood shall spring the 
new nation, 
With freedom's true motto graved on its fair chart. 

Frail rose, lasting leaf, who wore each 'mid the fighting, 
The North or the South, be this history's text; 

White armed peace shall wreathe both for the future's 
adorning; 
Man's frailty of this day, is God's strength for the next. 

The passions, self-seeking, that dear human rights spurn, 
Faults fleeting as roses^ with roses shall die; 

Quick faith, slow sincerity, Northern or Southern, 

With the leaf in the wreath shall grow greener for aye. 

Such seemeth the meaning of old Chaucer's vision. 
Two pageants, two colors, a worship diverse; 

When crises of history confront a young nation, 
The lied and Green knights their homage rehearse. 

Not a soul but must choose — God knoweth right choosing; 

Our discipline lies in the choice and the fight; 
God grant us a conscience forever preferring 

To the roses' vain honors, the leaf's sober light. 
21* 



THE TRUE BOND OF UNION 



In leaving the Old world our forefathers not only gave 
up what material inheritance might have fallen to them 
there, but cut off the entail to their descendants of the 
far more precious heir-looms of association and tradition 
which are there handed down from father to son, and 
which together with the great works of former generations 
connect the present with the past, reviving ancient 
memories, and kindling fresh imaginations. The emi- 
grant from the old country to the new may bring his 
household gods with him, but he worships no longer at 
the familiar altars. There are things sacred in every 
land, which cannot be transferred to a new soil. The 
love of the native soil is in the texture of the soul, and 
there is a responsive sympathy between man and the 
earth on which he was born of a kind that can exist in no 
foreign land. 

The aspects of nature are not the same for us as for our 
ancestors. The features of the land are changed; the 
sky is different: the trees have another growth; the birds 



THE TRUE BOND OF UNION. 247 

have another plumage and another song. Our busy day 
is not waked by the lark. The nightingale does not 
make our thickets tuneful, — though she may indeed sing 
to our inward ear a song sweet and sorrowful as that 
which 

"Found a path 
Through the sad heart of Ruth, when sick for home 
She stood in tears amid the alien corn." 

But these are not our heaviest losses, for nature has 
compensations, if not equivalents. It is the loss of the 
works of men which is the most grievous, — of the 
memorials of their lives, of the monuments of their faith, 
their love, their fears and hopes, — this is our irreparable 
loss, for by it our relations with our forefathers are cut off 
almost as if they had never been; our sympathies are 
narrowed, and our characters deprived of the refining and 
elevating influence which the force of associations with the 
works of the past exercises alike on the imagination and 
the affections. 

Nor is this all. The absence of visible memorials of 
the past is a hindrance to our recognition of the relations 
of men through age to age, and our appreciation of the 
mutual dependence of the various races and generations 
of mankind. "We are not free from relations to the past, 
even though the material evidences of those relations be 
all wanting. Our present is the product of the thought, 



248 OUR COUNTRY. 

the labors, the faith of the past. We cannot isolate 
ourselves. The larger element of onr civilization is the 
traditional. The succession of generations, influenced by 
those that have gone before, and each influencing in turn 
those that are to come after, is never interrupted. The 
life of the individual ceases, the life of the race is con- 
tinuous and unbroken. It is not one age, or one race, 
from which our civilization springs, but the whole past, 
and the whole human family are the source and reservoir 
of that stream of progress which, now and always, pours 
its continually deepening waters forward into the vast 
ocean of the future. 

Thus are we members one of another; and if through 
the absence of memorials of the past, we fail fully to 
recognize the intimacy of our connection with preceding 
generations, there is the more need for us to quicken our 
apprehension of this truth by study and by thought, in 
order that we may fully understand it in its application to 
the present time^ and our own present circumstances. 

The doctrine of the moral unity of the human race not 
only afibrds such partial solution, as man may hope to 
attain, of the plan and purpose of human history, but lies 
at the very foundation of politics and of law. It is the 
doctrine of revealed religion, no less than a teaching 
slowly learned, and but imperfectly acquired by mankind 
from their own experience. "Thou shalt love thy neigh- 



THE TRUE BOND OP UNION. 249 

bor as thyself," is the commandment in which it takes 
form; and it is expressed in the declaration, ''He hath 
made of one blood all nations of men, for to dwell on all 
the face of the earth." 

Hitherto, this doctrine has been so dimly recognised, 
so imperfectly understood, so frequently denied that it 
has been rarely applied to the affairs of the world. The 
ancients knew nothing of it. The idea of the unity of 
mankind would have been unintelligible to them, that of 
the brotherhood of men would have been alike ridiculous 
and offensive. The modern nations, notwitstanding the 
influence and authority of Christianity, have been slow 
to admit a brotherhood which should be real and not 
factitious; the strong should at least be the elder brothers 
and have the largest share of the goods; all men might 
by a figure of speech, be called the children of God, but 
it was plain that some of them were his favorites. We 
ourselves, here in America, went further than the world 
had before gone in the acknowledgment of the moral unity 
of the race, when we declared that all men are endowed 
by their Creator with certain inalienable rights; and we 
went further than the rest of the world in our practical 
denial of this doctrine in the violation of the inalienable 
rights of men of a different color from our own, and of 
other capacity. 



250 OUR COUNTRY. 

But the time has come, when the contradiction between 
our Grand Declaration and our Institutions, is to be 
destroyed. Not, alas ! as the result of our strong con- 
viction of duty, not as the consequence of our natural 
shame at so flagrant an impiety, not as the consequence 
of our moral improvement, but as a "war measure," a 
"military necessity," a political expedient, a social change 
required by existing circumstances ! 

We may well rejoice that our practice is to be in some 
measure, at least, conformed to our principles even if it 
be only by force. But if we desire to see our country 
not what we have boasted that it was, and have hoped 
that it might become, but what it ought to be, we must 
admit no divorce between morals and politics; we must 
act upon the noblest truths that we profess to believe. If 
we acknowledge the moral unity of the race, it is the 
claim of patriotism no less than the command of religion, 
that we secure to all men under our institution their 
inalienable rights; that we make liberty universal, that 
we maintain the equality of man as the children of God, 
and made in his image. Thus shall our Union rest on 
the eternal foundation of Justice, and our people be knit 
together in bonds interwoven in the very nature of human 
existence. 



THY WILL BE DONE. 



"Thy will be done," our lips are trained to saying; 

My will be done our urgent hearts implore; 
But while we look for gifts to crown such praying, 

God's N'o has crushed us — we will pray no more. 

We're slow to learn that we have asked insanely; 

Misread the text; and so reversed the spell 
Of benediction meant for all — not mainly 

That /and mine may in its affluence dwell. 

That we must loose the idols we are holding. 
Ere we can rightly lift our hands in prayer, 

Though life go with it, and our arms unfolding 
That dear embrace, drop nerveless with despair. 

When, swooning downward, prone before God's altar 
Our eyes close blindly, and we think all's done, 

An arm uplifts us; and our steps that falter 
Are guided forth — and lo! a day begun. 



252 OUR COUNTRY. 

With morning brightness all the East is burning, 
Although but now we deemed the daylight dead ; 

And, up the rugged steeps our way discerning, 
We ask for guidance, and for daily bread. 

Not bread alone, but all good gifts bestowing, 
God's angel sends us strengthened on our way. 

With sacrificial wine life's cup o'erflowing, 
And palms kept clean from idols, let us pray. 



WOMEN OF THE TIMES, 



In anticipating the numerous and important revolutions 
the present national crisis is destined to effect, it may not 
be amiss to consider what will be its influence upon the 
development of female character and intellect. 

It has long been the complaint of woman that the 
sphere in which she moved presented little stimulus to 
mental exertion; that her laudable ambitions found few 
sources of gratification, and no adequate rewards; that if 
she aspired to any thing beyond the labors of her nursery 
and household, she was met with sarcasm from one sex, 
and rebuffs from the other; while the scanty pittance 
reluctantly doled out to her for all kinds of labor, when- 
ever necessity compelled her to rely upon her own exer- 
tions, has been a sharp criticism upon the chivalry of 
those claiming to be her natural protectors, but who have 
been the first to denounce her for the independence 
poverty compelled her to assume 

While we believe a woman faithfully discharging her 
social and domestic duties is fulfilling the very highest 
22 



254 OUR COUNTRY. 

mission it is in her power to compass, since it is the one 
her Maker evidently assigned her, still we cannot be 
unmindful of the external pressure of public events upon 
her destiny, or of the development, both moral and intel- 
lectual, they must necessarily accomplish. If ladies 
have murmured at the narrow limits of their home- 
influences, gentlemen have murmured quite as loudly at 
the insipidity of our conversation, and the circumscribed 
range of reflections in which our minds seem always to 
be revolving. Nor can we resist the conviction that this 
imputation is well founded, when we listen day after day 
to the small talk of our drawing rooms, and find ourselves 
enlightened upon nothing beyond the fashions, the mis- 
deeds of domestics, and the sagacity of a French poodle. 
That this plebian mental condition is not the necessary 
result of woman's domestic position is the more certain, 
since the larger portion of our most gifted female authors 
and artistes have originated from those classes of society 
which are more or less accustomed to labor; and very 
many of the happiest inspirations of poesy have welled 
up spontaneously, while the hands mechanically per- 
formed their menial ofl&ces. 

It is the misfortune of our country-women that society 
and parental influence encourage young persons to resign 
the healthy discipline of the school room, while they are 
yet mentally and physically unfitted for the onerous duties 



WOxMEN OF THE TIMES. 255 

with which they are so early invested. In this precocious 
pressure lies the real germ of mediocrity; and it is only 
when parents become discreet, and society judicious, that 
youth will be impressed that something more is required 
for home happiness, than a beautiful face or a golden 
fleece. 

Since the women of the revolution manufactured their 
linen, moulded bullets for their defenders, and braved 
death for their little ones, American ladies have expe- 
rienced no hardships calculated to bring out the innate 
strength of female character. Their minds have become 
too morbid and imaginative, their hearts too sensitive and 
exacting, and the result of both has been a painful reac- 
tion upon the physique, making them hot house buds, 
where nature designed them for prairie roses. The evils 
of the present crisis will fall heavily upon our sex. 
Woman must exchange her dream-life for real sacrifices, 
hardships and sufferings. For almost every victim that 
falls upon the field of blood, a wife or mother is left to 
assume his responsibilities, together with the support of 
his daughters and sons. Her experiences will be new 
and bitter, but beneath all the supineness and helpless- 
ness of female character, there is concealed a power of 
endurance, a submission and adaptation to suffering, 
which seldom fails to buoy her up, amidst the deepest 
waters of affliction. These will avail her in her hour of 



256 OUR COUNTRY. 

need, and as emergencies arise, demanding new energies 
and greater efforts, she will be found equal to meet and 
overcome them. 

Life is no longer a romance — woman must struggle for 
support and resources. That she cannot provide for the 
necessities of her family upon the small sums her labor 
now commands is evident, neither indeed with increased 
remuneration would the present avenues of industry 
suffice her. When children cry for bread, mothers must, 
and will, have labor. When, therefore, the ranks of 
clerkships are thinned by the demands of war, the 
ingenuity and tact of woman will teach her how to 
press forward and secure the vacancies. As saleswomen, 
daguerrians, librarians, artistes^ accountants, book-keepers, 
amanuenses, teachers, physicians, and indeed in most of 
the occupations not dependent upon physical ability, 
females would not only prove equally desirable, but in 
many respects more acceptable. Nor will applications for 
these positions be confined to any one grade of society. 
The destinies of war and financial uncertainty will 
involve all classes, and while some will be content to eat 
the bread of charity, the energetic and more intelligent 
will struggle to advance their pecuniary interests. As 
woman sees this, she will realize that knowledge is not 
only power, but that it is also money. Her own mental 
resources will not only be aroused, but she will be 



WOxMEN OF THE TIMES. 257 

interested in qualifying her children for practical life. 
The whole tendency, therefore, of this struggle will be to 
increase woman's intellectual strength, to give her self- 
reliance, and enable her to forget her bodily infirmities in 
the intensity of her pursuits. 

The facility with which most American ladies become 
authors will also receive a healthy reaction. The ridicule 
cast upon female writers may not be unmerited, but the 
stimulus to authorship is not so well understood, nor so 
charitably regarded, as the evil deserves. While all allow 
that woman is especially imaginative, and that most of her 
attractions have their origin in this redundancy of fancy, 
they forget that like all other gifts, imagination must be 
gratified, or it becomes a curse to the possessor. When, 
therefore, her life is too real and barren to satisfy the 
requirements of her nature, what can be more natural 
than that she should manufacture manikins to order, and 
invest them with the witcheries which she would be glad, 
but fails, to find in her daily life? If these manikins are 
iniperfect and open to criticism it is not her fault. She 
frames them to the best of her ability, and finds the 
amusement she sought in draping their uncouthness. 
The publisher is at liberty to reject them, and certainly 
the book must be quite as agreeable to the critic as his 
phillipic is to the writer. We have often thought when 
looking over these cutting "notices" that if the critic 
22* 



258 OUR COUNTRY. 

could but realize what feminine heart-aches those stupid 
love-scenes had magnetized, and what fairy palaces those 
feeble descriptions had built up in many an ungarnished 
room, he would use his pen with more leniency and allow 
the hapless dreamer to idealize her hard lot with imagi- 
nary possessions. For the realities that woman must now 
encounter, her imagination will become more practical, as 
well as creditable, while in this diversion from self, and 
the intense mental irritability which has hitherto found so 
little negative influence in the hacknied routine of her 
home duties, she will find a natural restorative for the 
physical debility which so often renders her life burden- 
some. 

There will always be females as well as males to whom 
authorship will be a mental necessity. If the South has 
been less prolific in female writers, it has been because 
its women have not had the same inducements to mental 
exertion as have urged on their Northern sisters. With 
the fatal shock which has startled their hot blood aflame, 
will spring up an intellectual rivalry of which we may 
well beware; in the thrilling incidents of our civil war, 
both North and South will find material for romances 
over which unborn generations will shed tears of blood. 
It will no longer be said that America has no past to 
inspire the novelist; while poets and sculptors shall forget 
their day-dreams in the East to wreathe laurels for our 



WOMEN OF THE TIMES. 259 

heroes, and chisel the cypress and the willow upon the 
marble that records their valor. 

Never again during our life can such opportunities for 
noble deeds present themselves to woman, as are now 
offering themselves to her acceptance. The woman who 
stands in her cottage door and waves her tearless adieu 
to her brave volunteer, is no less a hero than he; for does 
she not remain to suffer a thousand deaths through her 
affection and fears? The mother who blesses her son and 
consigns him to the sacrifice, is braver than her child; 
for a mother would give many lives for the lad who has but 
one to lose. The female who administers to the dying 
necessities of the soldier, is worthier of immortality than 
he from whose brow she wipes the death-damps, for does 
she not, through her sympathetic nature, expose herself 
to heart-wounds more cruel to be borne, than the sabre's 
gash or the fatal shell? 

If, therefore, there are women sighing to distinguish 
themselves and seeking for ambitions worthy their abili- 
ties, — to-day they have abundant opportunity for both, and 
history is waiting to write out their meritorious record. 
Wherever the poor wife is left desolate with her group of 
little ones — wherever poverty flings its cold shadow over 
the hearth-stone — wherever the wreck of a true-hearted 
patriot, or a broken foe stretches itself out to die — there 
is woman'' s mission! 



260 OUK COUNTRY. 

Who is to bind up these broken hearts? Who is to 
provide for the tender orphans whose naked feet have but 
taken their first steps in this weary life-journey? Where 
are the ladies whose noble instincts the rust of opulence 
and ennui have corroded, who will atone for past inertia, 
by lifting up these impressible little ones where the vices 
of the City, and the snares of the wicked cannot reach 
them? What halo can adorn us like that which rests 
upon the brow of benevolence? Where is the pearl half 
so lustrous as the tear of gratitude? Or the jewel to be 
won, so imperishable, as the soul we bear up in our 
supplicating palms? 

Let then, each American woman meet cheerfully the 
demands which the present emergencies of our country 
require at her hands, and prepare herself as she best can, 
for the new and prolonged sacrifices that she must surely 
encounter. If she does this, the future will be found 
pregnant with good for all classes of our country-women, 
and the phenix of her salvation will rise exultant from the 
ashes of her dead. 



THE APOTHEOSIS OF PA]^, 

A FABLE. 



i)UT half a man and half a brute 

A listless Satyr wandered, 
And all the golden hours of June 

In idle rambles squandered. 

While roaming thus, 'twas ages since, 
He found, one morning early, 

A spot where man, new comer then 
On earth, was reaping barley. 

The Satyr paused, and lounging sat 

To view the operation, 
And, as he sat, played with the straws, 

For want of occupation. 

But, blowing in the square cut ends, 
His listlessness soon vanished, 

And busy plans of cunning work 
All thoughts of reaping banished. 



262 OUR COUNTRY. 

Before the reapers left the field 

The Satyr had completed 
His pipes, and with new melodies 

Their wondering ears had greeted. 

They left their sickles in the field 
And gathered round to hear him; 

His wondrous music forces them 
To reverence and fear him. 

He seemed at will to swell their hearts 
With sorrow or with pleasure; 

Their every passion rose and fell 
Responsive to his measure. 

No idle rambler then was he, 
No lounging useless Satyr; 

They deified him, called him Pan, 
A demi-god creator. 

Thus has it proved a thousand times 

In all succeeding ages. 
And seeming trifles still convert 

The seeming fools to sages. 

For highest deeds of usefulness, 
When Providence so pleases, 

The chance is still to each man sent, 
Which — happy he who seizes! 



A VISIT TO THE BATTLE-FIELD OF GETTYSBURG, 

THE FOUR RELICS. 



[The following fragment, though strictly and literally true as 
to all its facts and details, was originally composed in the 
form of an episode, intended to be inserted in a little work of 
imagination, in which, spirits and supernatural beings form the 
principal agents. This will at once account to the reader for 
some allusions near the beginning and end, which might other- 
wise appear incomprehensible, as also for much of the general 
tone and coloring of the whole sketch.] 

* * * The world of spirits, of angels, 

and of visions is, perhaps, nearer to the actual working 
and fighting world in which we live and breathe, than 
most of us are apt to imagine. The last words of the 
Spirit with the Sky-blue pinions had brought so vividly to 
my recollection some little incidents which had impressed 
themselves on my mind some months ago, and which, by 
subtle ties of thought are so closely united with the subject 
under consideration, that I willingly suspend my narrative 
for a few moments to relate them. The two things, I 
think, mutually reflect light on each other, even as the 



264 OUR COUNTRY. 

illumination of a fire at night has been known to extend 
its glow over large tracts of the heaven above it. 

Of all awful and at the same time sublimely horrible 
sights to be witnessed on this globe, it is said that the 
spectacle of a battle-field and its environs some days after 
the slaughter has taken place, is the most soul-harrowing. 
Such scenes have again and again been described of late, 
by pens far more graphic than mine, or by eye-witnesses 
who either wrote on the spot, or immediately after leaving 
it, with all its images of terror and of agony fresh upon 
their recollection. Particularly the scenes which occur at 
such times in military hospitals, in which are huddled 
together the dying, the mortally wounded, and the 
agonized subjects for surgical operation, are spoken of as 
terrific beyond all conception or belief. It has never been 
my lot to witness any of these, and I fervently pray to 
heaven, that it never may. What I did see was altogether 
of a softer, and some might say, of a tamer character. 
Such as it was, I shall narrate it in words as few and as 
simple as possible. 

I think it must have been about three weeks after the 
great battle was fought — a battle, which, after three days 
of desperate attack and defence, ended in a glorious 
victory, consummated on the Fourth of July by the flight 
of the enemy — a battle, too, which as well for the numbers 
engaged in it, the valor and generalship displayed on both 



THE FOUR RELICS. 265 

sides, as for its inappreciably important results, throws in 
the shade almost every other engagement of which we 
have any mention in history — about three times, I say, 
the moon, since the event, had changed her varying 
phases, when the present writer, in company with a 
clergyman and a few ladies, visited the scene of conflict. 
Although within that space of time, many horrors must 
naturally have been abated, many sorrowful sights removed 
or mellowed down, we felt as after a long hot day of sum- 
mer's travel we approached the painfully attractive spot, 
as though we were entering the rueful abodes of the dead. 
Fields trodden down and trampled into desolation; fences 
and enclosures torn away or consumed by fire; hundreds 
of stakes still sticking in the ground where tents had been 
erected or horses tethered; — such were the objects which 
for miles around environed the great central gloominess. 
To right and left of the main road, some nearer, some 
more distant, could be seen beside a clump of trees or on 
the open fields, small tented encampments, where, beneath 
the national banner, wounded or dying men were being 
nursed and waited on by surgeons, by charitable women 
who had volunteered their services and many of whom 
had left their comfortable homes to remain night and day 
with the sick, and by their own companions who had 
escaped the dangers of the battle-field. From some of 
these tents came delicious strains of military music, the 
23 



266 OUR COUNTRY. 

effect of which on the ear, mellowed and sweetened by 
the distance, was beyond measure pensive and pleasing. 
And as in the act of dying, the sense of sight almost 
invariably fails before that of hearing, "perhaps e'en 
now," I thought to myself, "some one, over whose eyes 
the death-film is gathering, may hear those pathetic 
strains, and even in his death-agonies, when he can no 
longer see the weeping forms of his friends around him, 
may be soothed by them." 

This state of things continued for several miles, until 
we came upon a region of desolation, where half-decayed 
carcasses of mules and horses might be seen in every 
direction, so that the hot summer air was completely 
saturated with the sickening odor of putrefaction, This 
peculiar and overpowering impression on the sense of 
smell, as much as anything else, made us realize that we 
were travelling into a realm of death and ghastly gloom. 
More than once, through the open doors of wayside 
cottages and farm-houses, we, in passing, caught a glimpse 
of some dismal figure, usually a person in the first prime 
of opening manhood — but pale, pale — and very much like 
one already bandaged up and stiffened in a winding-sheet. 
Arriving in view of Cemetery Hill, we passed four men 
in soldiers' uniform, bearing on a litter, what at first sight 
we supposed to be a corpse, but which proved to be a man 



THE FOUR RELICS. 267 

still alive, though whiter than the sheets which covered 
him. 

On the southern side of the Hill itself were many 
grave-diggers and many new-made graves. We found 
the same melancholy work going on there the next morn- 
ing. Wagon-loads of coffins were moving about from 
place to place, or piled up ready for use. 

Such were the sights, sounds and smells which impressed 
the senses, and through the senses affected the fancy and 
the heart, about the time of sunset. 

But the three relics? — We will come to them anon. 
The next morning, after visiting the Theological Seminary, 
then a hospital, (how calm and quiet and even cheerful 
most of those wounded men appeared, how ready they 
were to talk and even to smile, what noble countenances 
many of them had, how pleased they seemed with our 
sympathizing questions!) we passed out and viewed the 
rifle-pits close by, which had been used by rebel sharp- 
shooters, and from which they were wont to pick off any 
luckless wight they caught passing over the distant square 
of the town. 

Walking next down a little street, we came to where a 
few men, with an officer directing them, were working 
around a huge heap of articles, which had been collected 
from different parts of the battle-field, at the same time 
assorting them and putting them away in separate lots in 



268 OUR COUNTRY. 

an adjoining building. During the short time we paused 
to converse with these men, we were particularly struck 
with three objects, two of which we obtained, whilst the 
third was not procurable either for love or money. 

This last was a long and beautiful finished bowie-knife, 
which had belonged to one of the Louisiana Tigers. The 
blade was very bright and sharp, the handle rich and 
artistically executed, and the whole instrument such as 
any gentleman would like to own and keep as a parlor 
ornament, to be handed down to posterity as a memento 
of a civil war destined to be memorable through all 
coming time. But the man who had it, seemed to value 
it far above its weight in gold. 

Of the other two, one was a simple soldier's button, 
which, at first sight, presented nothing note-worthy. But 
upon closer inspection we found impressed upon it, the 
following little Latin inscription — "Aniniis opibusqiie pa- 
rati.'' Whether the soldier who had borne it, had under- 
stood the import of the words or not, who now living can 
tell ? Many thousand similar buttons had no doubt been 
worn by his comrades. Some directing mind, however, 
must have originally selected the motto and regulated the 
fashion of them, and even if the poor fellow himself knew 
not a word of Latin, we may reasonably suppose some of 
his officers had translated it for him. Hearing its mean- 
ing, he had no doubt gloried in the sentiment, and felt 



THE FOUR RELICS. 269 

his bosom all the warmer, both for the button and its 
inscription, when, during a cold night-watch or a stormy 
day, he, by its means, protected himself against the 
chilling blast. Such things may seem to many the 
merest trifles, — but they are trifles which tell. What- 
ever tends to keep up the sentiment, the enthusiasm of au 
army, adds that much to its dash and eflectiveness. An 
appropriate motto, an exciting melody, a soul-stirring 
song, are none of them without their charm; and in these 
things, I think the enemy has been rather superior to us. 
Had the next relic not proved more interesting than 
the two just mentioned, I should never have troubled the 
reader with an account of it. And yet at first sight it 
seemed simple and homely in the extreme. Tt was a small 
slip of coarse yellow paper, about three or four inches long 
and nearly as many wide. It was much soiled and 
weather-beaten, and had been found on the body of a 
Louisianian — a private, if I mistake not. I wish the 
reader could see it, because with all its coarseness and 
weather-stains, it told its own story much more forcibly 
than any poor words of mine can do. It was evidently a 
communication from a young wife to a young husband, 
then the father of two small children. It was simply 
folded once, the crease or fold forming a dividing line iu 
the centre, thus forming two pages, on each of which 
were written words, which, of all others, must ever be 
23* 



270 OUR COUNTRY. 

tlie dearest to the eye of a youthful parent. And not 
words alone, — on each little page was a small lock of 
hair, carefully plaited in the form of a small wreath or 
circlet, and fastened to the paper with pink ribband, 
which, though much faded, had once been fresh, and 
still retained the tasteful appearance with which it had 
been arranged by the hands of the mother. Each wreath 
thus occupying one side of the dividing fold, and each 
being similarly fastened with its little rosette of ribband, 
it naturally followed that when the paper was folded 
together, the two circlets rested lovingly together, (they 
were brother and sister,) and thus in affectionate near- 
ness, both might be borne on the heart of the common 
parent. What an amulet it must have been to preserve 
the wearer against temptations both from within and 
without. 

The lady who made this little relic her prize, valued it 
so highly, that I in vain endeavored to persuade her to 
present it to me. Not being able to become its owner, I 
studied it with more than usual care, and even went to 
the trouble of making a rough copy of it, 

To Mr. Richard H. Willeford 

this is fanny's , . this is Eichard's 

wilk'ford's hair \*/ \^ ) H. willeford's 

hair 
Your two little darlings 



THE FOUR RELICS. 271 

How infinitely stronger than all artificial rules of 
rhetoric, syntax and orthography, are the simple artless 
words of a mother's love. These last go straight to the 
heart, the former, though very needful and excellent in 
their way, often chill the very things they beautify. The 
one may be compared to living water, pulsing up fresh 
from its fountain, the other, to water frozen into icicles, 
and sparkling with prismatic radiance. 

Reader ! those few unlearned words, in their unusual 
but' touching arrangement, are well worthy of being 
pondered over. 

Observe, if you please, how instinctively in all lan- 
guages, the terms of affection, particularly when applied 
to children, assume some appearance of endearing little- 
ness. Every one who has the least acquaintance with 
European languages, knows how much affectionate dimi- 
nutives abound in them all, particularly in German, 
French and Italian. The English, though comparatively 
meagre in them, is not a total exception. "Your two 
little darlings. ^^ This last word, I suppose, was in old 
English "dearling," but by changing the pronunciation 
how much it seems to gain in richness — the original 
diminutive deepening into a broader and fuller sound. 
How the father's eye, before he went upon the battle-field, 
must have moistened whilst resting upon that sweet word, 
written by (to him) the very dearest hand, except their 



272 OUR COUNTRY. 

own, that ever he had clasped, or could clasp, in all this 
world! Those darlings, she, in the devotedness of her 
young love, had, with pain and perils borne to him; and 
even if he had loved her ever so devotedly before the 
wedding-ring had symbolized the enduringness of their 
affection, how much greater must have been his affection, 
when from their mutual love, had sprung two other 
human beings fashioned like themselves? Perhaps the 
boy most resembled the father, the girl the mother. For 
the girl, most likely he experienced rather the deeper 
devotion; for the boy, the mother. You may notice the 
diminutive, f, of fanny and the capital, R, of Richard. 
And when he imagined, or remembered, the three as 
composing one heart-captivating group, in which the 
Youthful-Motherly, the budding Masculine and the bud- 
ing Feminine were beautifully combined, how his young 
father's and husband's heart must have melted within 
him! 

Much as I dislike the minute technicalities of grammar 
at such a time, necessity compels me to descend to them 
in order to make myself understood. You will please, 
dear reader, to notice another minute peculiarity, viz: the 
double possessive, or in other words, "an apostrophe with 
the letter, S," applied both to the christian and the sur- 
name of each of the children. Perhaps she retains some 
faint recollection from her early school-days of those 



THE FOUR RELICS. 273 

mysterious letters and . symbols, which now did her 
"yeoman's service," — and so the dear simple creature 
writes, "this is fanny's willeford's hair" — as much as to 
say — 'both by the strong bonds of law, and the still 
stronger and holier sacramental bonds of baptism, the 
little thing is yours — yours, soul and body, — yours 
through the Church and through the State.' 

No doubt the father felt all these little touches at a 
single glance — it required for him no labored analysis, no 
lengthy train of reasoning. To us they are interesting, 
as showing how rapidly and unerringly. Nature, by a few 
untaught half-sentences, a few artless syllables imperfectly 
scrawled and ungrammatically worded, can say more than 
we, with all our fancied erudition, could, after filling 
many long drawn pages 

In another respect, this little relic had for me a strong 
source of interest, — just enough was known to excite the 
imagination, and not enough to blunt curiosity. What, 
before he entered the rebel army, could have been the 
avocation of the bearer of it ? Had he been a believer in 
the sanctity of the divine institution? If so, how are we 
to reconcile the existence of those soft emotions with the 
desire to aid in keeping in perpetual bondage millions of 
his fellow-beings, composed of flesh and blood like him- 
self, with the slight difference of a skin differently colored? 
Could he ever have been an overseer, think you, riding 



274 OUR COUNTRY. 



1 



from field to field with a cow-hide in his hand? Had he 
been a boatmen or lumberer upon the Father of Waters? 
Or, had he once kept a little shop in one of the obscure 
streets of the Crescent City, — for beautiful human blos- 
soms sometimes are met with in dark and dingy places? 
To most of these queries fancy was disposed to answer in 
the negative. — What, if he had been torn by a rude 
military conscription from his wife and little ones, and 
been forced to fight for a cause in which he felt little or no 
sympathy ! In sooth, such things have been. Perhaps, 
he may have been in his time, a jolly herdsman on the 
flowery prairies of Attakapas or Opelousas, or near the 
waters of the Atchefelaya, mounted on a cantering mus- 
tang pony, with Spanish saddle and huge wooden stirrups, 
with a horn by his side and a lasso at his saddle-bow, 
galloping with a few companions attired like himself, 
after countless droves of branded caltle? Perhaps, he 
had often indulged in the poetical pastime of arrow-fishing 
which Mr. Thorpe so graphically describes. Perhaps, 
but a truce to conjecture. Of one thing I think we may 
be pretty certain, that when the death blow came, his last 
thoughts must have hovered around the images of these 
dear ones, a memento of whom he ever carried nearest 
his heart. 

It only remains to add that the hair of the children 
was very beautiful. The boy's was something between 



THE FOUR RELICS. 275 

flaxen and auburn; that of the girl nearly a full auburn, 
a little softened into brown; both very smooth and silken, 
and although taken from the battle-field, each had much of 
its virgin gloss about it, like the plumage of a humming- 
bird after a storm. Often I held them in heaven's sun- 
beams to watch the play of light on their woven glossi- 
ness, and often, — but here's a little poem which may 
express what more I have to say, better than prose. 

Ye mourners, come, with bosom swelling, 
Wrap him in his winding-sheet. 
Cross his arms and bind his feet, 
And, with ceremonies meet, 

Bear him to his last cold dwelling. 

A three-fold chain, a rapture treble, 
A boy, a girl, a loving wife, 
Once bound his heart to sunny life, 
His blood was spilt in traitor's strife; 

But still we mourn him, though a rebel. 

Week after week its old grief carries; 

Northward they gaze at dawn of day, 
Northward at sunset, far away, 
And as they gaze, I hear them say, 

"He never comes! How long he tarries." 



276 OUR COUNTRY. 

Oh, for the lov'd ones that outlive him, 
For his life-blood bravely spilt, 
For love's floweret doomed to wilt, 
Gracious God ! o'erlook his guilt, 

For his loving heart, forgive him ! 

Of these three relics already contemplated, the first 
was calculated to lead us to the study of those savage and 
tiger-like passions which lurk in the dark corners of the 
human heart, since tiger-like, though the weapon had a 
gay and brilliant outside, it was fashioned for the very 
purpose of feasting on human blood; whilst the second 
served to draw aside a curtain and to give us a hasty peep 
into the little secret springs by which large masses of 
men are spirited to action. The powers of our nature 
which these two conducted us to meditate upon, may be 
called the destructive , rather than the constructive or re- 
constructive ones. The third bore us among those dear 
emotions and sanctities to which we owe our very life and 
most of the good that is found in that life; which may 
therefore be called productive in their nature, and with 
which war of all kinds, and particularly civil war, is ever 
at variance. The fourth and last, will, I hope, unlock 
for us a dark portal, through which we may wander into 
a shadowy realm, where volcanic mountains cast their 
illuminations over solemn midnight seas, where destruc- 



THE FOUK RELICS. 277 

tion prepares the way for reconstruction, and where amid 
a world of chaotic din and darkness and havoc, a fair 
angel of love may be seen smiling over billows of blood 
and fire. 

But before proceeding to it, I must beg the indulgence 
of a few preliminary remarks. To many of us residing 
in this latitude, the name of Gettysburg has for many 
years been so familiar, that it is not without considerable 
effort, that we are able to disentangle that name from a 
mesh of common-place associations. This task, however, 
once accomplished, the great battle that was fought there, 
at once assumes its due prominence. Even the great 
victory of Tours, usually spoken of by historians, as 
the most important in its results of any that has yet 
taken place, inasmuch as it secured Europe against the 
tyranny of the Crescent, and fully established the power 
of the Cross, was not more note-worthy. On both occa- 
sions, there is reason to believe, that the good principle 
would eventually have vanquished the evil one. Christi- 
anity must have conquered Islamism in the one case, 
and Freedom must have trampled out Slavery in the 
other. But in eirher case, had that good principle been 
temporarily defeated, there would have been a painful 
season of dismay and retrogradation. Both battles have 
upon them some marks which to the open eye of faith, 
speak plainly of the Divine. That of Tours, lasted for 
24 



278 OUB COUNTRY. 

seven days — of which sacred number, few persons are 
ignorant of the significance. That of Gettysburg, was 
consummated by the retreat of the enemy on that ever 
memorable day, for which, even in this skeptical age of 
scoffers and secessionists, many of us still continue to feel 
a profound reverence. Was it not upon that day that 
Lewis and Clarke, the first explorers, who by order of 
government, travelled from the Atlantic to the Pacific, 
heard the sound of strange artillery echoing from the 
bosom of the Rocky Mountains, as if those mountains, of 
their own accord, were celebrating the epoch of the 
Declaration? And though those mystic sounds have been 
heard by many a traveller and hunter since, and are still 
unaccounted for, was it not singular, that of all the three 
hundred and sixty-five days of the round year, they 
should have first been listened to by men of Anglo-Saxon 
descent on the glorious Fourth? And did not, on the 
same never-to-be-forgotten anniversary, three of our most 
distinguished Presidents, close their eyes on this mortal 
scene? And during the last eventful year, did not we, 
on that day, obtain three notable victories — one on the 
Atlantic Slope, one on the East bank of the Father of 
Waters, and one on the West? Can all these things, 
think ye, be the result of mere chance and hap-hazard ? 
It would require a greater stretch of credulity to think 



THE FOUR RELICS. 279 

SO, than to believe them the results of a superintending 
Providence. 

The subject is a vast one, and to me one of absorbing 
interest: as yet, like children peeping at the stars through 
the windows of a dark room, we have only had a glimpse 
of it. This much I think we may safely do — viz: look 
upon the memorable day above alluded to, as one which 
has been canonized by three national deaths, and signal- 
ized by three synchronous victories, which may well be 
regarded as prefigurative. 

The fourth relic was found in a different locality, and 
possessed an interest of a dififerent character. Passing 
again by Cemetery Hill, we struck off into the woods to 
take a view of the ground occupied by the right wing of 
the Federal Army, and where some desperate fighting 
had taken place during the night-attack of the 2d of 
July. Here we found the entrenchments still standing 
which our men had thrown up with such rapidity, and 
which seemed to extend for the space of more than a mile 
along the curving brow of the wooded ridge. Here the 
ground was thickly strewn with old clothes, cartridge- 
boxes, canteens, beef-bones and bullets. Here too the 
odor of decaying horses and mules was again overpower- 
ing. As we advanced, we came in sight of large numbers 
of those vast rocks and boulders, some of which, taller 
than the tallest housetop, towered aloft like the remains 



280 OUR COUNTRY. 

of weird Druidical temples, and carried back the imagina- 
tion to the days beyond the Flood. Had those enormous 
masses been rolled or heaved there, for they did not 
appear originally to have belonged to their present site? 
Had they been removed by the agency of fire, or of 
water, or of both combined? What vast forces of dis- 
ruption, dislocation, and transportation must have been 
united to effect a scene which reminded us of the fabled 
wars of the Titans against the Gods ! Were those indeed 
fragmentary ruins arising from the disintegration of old 
primordial rocks and ending in the formation of secondary 
ones? Had the waves of the ocean once ebbed away 
from the sides of the mountains, and gradually retreating 
eastward, formed the present Atlantic coast, or had the 
mountain chain itself been upheaved by volcanic forces 
above the sinking waters ? 

Such were some of the questions and speculations 
which crowded upon the mind, and even had no battle 
been fought there, no thoughtful man could visit that 
wild spot, without brooding over the awful secrets belong- 
ing to primeval ages, without picturing to himself incon- 
ceivably grand concussions and convulsions of nature, 
which usually accompany the transition period from an 
old to a newer and better state of the world. 

It is whilst visiting such scenes as this that a pleasing 
awe comes over the mind: old earth, sphinx-like, seems 



THE FOUR RELICS. 281 

to propound certain questions to us, threatening, if we do 
not answer them, to devour us. Dreams of the wonders 
of the first creation are followed by speculations concern- 
ing floods, earthquakes, volcanic eruptions and new hirth, 
until from what has been, the mind naturally leaps for- 
wards to visions of what ivill he. "May there not," it 
naturally asks, "again be convulsions, to be followed by 
another and more glorious Regeneration?" The reader 
will please to bear this last word in mind ; we shall have 
to return to it again. 

And so we went forward musing, dreaming and observ- 
ing, now climbing one of those gigantic rock-masses and 
seating ourselves upon its summit, now marking the 
bloodstains and broken armor on the earth, now picking 
up some memento of the battle and tossing it away with 
the hope of coming upon something still more noteworthy, 
(for the great War Eagle has in this spot dropt many, 
very many plumes and feathers,) until at last two objects, 
not more than twenty yards distant from each other, 
arrested our full attention. One was a pack of cards, 
and the other, the remains of a New Testament, as if the 
Evil and the Grood Spirit, each furnished with an appro- 
priate instrument, had been warring together in the same 
army. 

The cards we looked upon, but did not touch. Of the 
Testament, a few leaves which had been severed from the 
24* 



282 OUR COUNTRY. 

volunje to which they belonged, seemed to offer a portable 
and convenient memento, which might easily be carried 
away in one's pocket. Such is the history of the fourth 
relic. 

On the first Sunday night after returning from my 
visit to the battle-field, in a lonely country house, during 
those quiet hours when all the inmates of the family were 
sunk in slumber, I drew from a drawer in which I had 
carefully laid it, the holy relic, and read the whole of it 
attentively from beginning to end. I read it by the light 
of a kerosene lamp, — in other words, by a lamp fed by 
oil procured from a substance which may have been a 
vegetable, centuries before the time of the flood, — a 
casual circumstance which I mention only on account of 
the associating ideas. 

The fragment extended from the second chapter of the 
second Epistle of St. Peter to the end of the first chapter 
of the third Epistle of St. John, and in the form in which 
it was printed, composed exactly twelve (double-columned) 
pages. The whole was very much soiled and discolored — 
in fact, in some places, so thickly was it coated with 
adhesive clay as to be utterly illegible. But all the more 
interesting to me was it on that account. 

Twelve battle-stained pages from the Holy Book of 
GOD! 



THE FOUR RELICS. 283 

Most of us can recollect certain solemn occasions, times 
perhaps of deep family bereavement or of national con- 
sternation, when in the overwhelming awe of the moment, 
we have opened at random that sacred volume, and have 
found words to soothe, to guide, or to edify. \Ye may 
also call to mind other occasions, when after a great 
rescue, or a danger safely passed over, the same heaven- 
inspired book has spoken to us in words, unlike any other 
words either written or spoken, of which we have ever 
had any knowledge. Remembering all this, it can easily 
be imagined that it was with no common emotions^ that I 
sat down that night to peruse a message from the battle- 
field. 

And although another Bible above me, which had 
been clasped by sunbeams during the day, was now 
wide open with all its starry pages, from which the 
hoary Hierophant Time nightly preaches to us, — a Bible 
composed by the same Almighty Author, and in which 
were likewise images of a Virgin, a Dove, a Dragon, 
an infant Demi-god strangling a Serpent, Wise Men 
travelling onwards from the East, even as one star 
folio we th another westward, and (more beautiful than 
all the rest) a glittering Astral Cross — still, too thick an 
earthly film, had dimmed my mortal eyes, to read those 
glories right. 



284 OUR COUNTRY. 

So I sat me down in my silent chamber, by my coal-oil 
lamp, to read those twelve weather-beaten, war -stained 
pages. 

I forgot to mention that at no great distance from the 
place where the fragment was picked up, we reached a 
spot, which, of all others, bore the most unmistakeable 
evidences of the fury of the recent contest. There in 
fact seemed to have taken place the main sweep and 
havoc of the fiery war-tempest. Gigantic trunks of trees 
prostrate or riven in twain, others whose stems and 
branches were shattered, peeled or riddled by innumerable 
balls, showed how thicker and closer than the stones 
of a hailstorm, must have been the desolating tornado. 
Perhaps to the brave hearts, engaged in conflict at the 
time, in the excitement of the occasion, the reality may 
not have appeared quite as terrible as the whole appeared 
to us witnessing the effects after it was all over; — but to 
me, loitering and musing on the spot itself, it seemed an 
utter mystery, how any human being stationed near that 
place during the thick of the battle, could ever have 
survived such a hurricane of shot and shell. The bare 
sight of the war-marks impressed on the surrounding 
trees, made me shudder. 

This scene all came back to me that night whilst 
reading. I pictured to myself the owner of the little 
Testament, perusing its pages on the night of the battle. 



THE FOUR RELICS. 285 

but hefore the night attack had commenced. I saw him 
pouring over it by the light of surrounding camp-fires, 
with the entrenchments formed of logs and earth before 
him, the weird and druidical rocks behind, and the moon 
(then two days past her full) with all the constellations 
overhead. Perhaps he may have once been a lumberer 
in the forests of Maine, perhaps he had been born beneath 
the granite peaks of New Hampshire, perhaps his home 
had been in distant Minnesota near gelid waters which 
flow towards the Arctic Sea, perhaps his soul had from 
boyhood been attuned to sublimity by listening to the 
voice of Niagara. — Perhaps he had been among those 
driven back by the rebels, during the first day's disastrous 
conflict. Very certainly, he must have expected to be 
again in the thick of the battle before the whole should 
be over. 

And with these recollections and these expectations 
fresh upon him, — behold him open his Bible ! 

Most of us live, habitually, too far down in the low- 
lands of earthly life — too far down among the swamps 
and miasmatic marshes of mortal care and passion, to 
read aright the words of the hallowed volume. Those 
words appear to us as incomprehensible as do those mystic 
pictures, which here and there in our country, are seen 
impressed upon the faces of lofty rocks, but so liigli up, 
that fancy, in vain, wearies herself to conjecture how or 



286 OUR COUNTRY. 

when they ever came there. So seem to us for the most 
part, the words of Scripture. Only rare or unusual 
occasions of sorrow, or of rapture, tide us up to the 
height of their high import. And then we not only see, 
we begin for the first time to feel their meaning. — 

So when the brave-hearted soldier opened the Holy 
Book that night, how different the words must have 
looked to him from what they had ever done before ! — 
Tall billows of elevated emotion have lifted his eyes nearer 
to their own altitude. He opens, perhaps, at random, 
and his eye lights upon these words of St. Peter. 

"But, beloved, be ye not ignorant of this one thing, 
that one day is with the Lord, as a thousand years, 
and a thousand years as one day. The day of the Lord 
will come as a thief in the night; in which the heavens 
shall pass away with a great noise, and the elements shall 
melt with fervent heat, the earth also, and the works that 
are therein shall be burnt up. Seeing then that all 
these things shall be dissolved, what manner of persons 
ought ye to be in all holy conversation and godliness, — ■ 
looking for and hasting unto the coming of the day of 
God, wherein the heavens being on fire shall be dissolved, 
and the elements shall melt with fervent heat? Never- 
theless, we, according to His promise, look for 7ieu) 
heavens and a new earth, wherein dwelleth righteous- 
ness." 



THE FOUR RELICS. 287 

Or going a little further back in the same chapter, he 
may have read the following: — "And this they willingly 
are ignorant of, that by the Word of God, the heavens 
were of old, and the earth standing out of the water and 
in the water: whereby, the world that then was, being 
overflowed with water, perished:" 

Behold, gentle reader, in the first quotation a reference 
to the distant /w^i^re, and in the second, to the far distant 
past. This last was the very theuje on which those rocks 
had been preaching to us before. Almost we were 
inclined to fancy them vast natural pulpits, on which 
invisible ministers were stationed to impart high thoughts 
to those whose hearts were in tune for their reception. 

But perhaps he read those wonderful words at an 
earlier hour, say about the time of sunset, when the day- 
star was sinking in the west, and the full moon, now two 
days old. had not yet risen in the east. Perhaps at that 
magic hour, he may have closed the volume to meditate, 
out there in the heart of the forest, and not until the 
camp-fires were lighted and but a short time before the 
sudden attack, may we suppose him to have again opened 
the heavenly pages. And this time, let us imagine that 
his eyes rest upon the following sentences from the 
Apostle of Love. 

"Beloved, let us love one another; for love is of God, 
and every one that loveth, is born of God, and knoweth 



288 OUR COUNTRY. 

God. He that lovetli not, knoweth not God; for God is 
love. * >!-> * And this commandment have we from 
Him, that he who loveth God, love his brother also." 

Let us imagine that he has scarcely finished his reading 
these sweet words, when, with fiendish yells and savage 
war-shouts, ten thousand of his brother countrymen, born 
in a sunnier clime than himself, come rushing up the 
steep wooded hill, firing Indian fashion from behind the 
trees, come furiously on with intent to destroy him and 
his other brothers of the North, and the volcano of battle 
surges up ever higher and higher with its molten lava- 
floods, and the war-demons shriek ever louder and fiercer, 
and groans and howls, and shouts and convulsive sobs are 
dismally intermingled, — let us imagine that in that dread 
moment, he himself, in obedience to the words of com- 
mand, must load and fire; — we say, that if he has rightly 
understood the words of the Apostle, even in the act of 
levelling his musket, he may feel no hatred against his 
advancing foe — but instead of hate, the softest pity, the 
softest brotherly love — nay, even when wounded unto 
death, he sees the earth and the sky reeling around him, 
and knows that his heart's blood is gushing away^ his last 
words might truthfully be, "Father, forgive them, for 
they know not what they do." 

* * * Such are some of the reflections which this 
fragment has suggested. Even now as I write, it lies 



THE FOUR RELICS. 289 

beneath my eye with all its battle stains. Empedocles is 
fabled to have plunged in the crater of Mount Etna, and 
his sandals to have been thrown up by the volcano. 
Were this true, and I could get possession of one of those 
sandals, it would be a relic not as worthy of preservation — 
not nearly as suggestive, as those twelve little pages. 
That soldier was also probably swallowed up by a volcano; 
but what is a sandal, even though it may have belonged 
to one of the poet-philosophers of the antique world, 
compared to even a few words of the talismanic life-book, 
which that hero bore with him into battle? 

A word or two more and I leave the sacred fragment 
to preach for itself. Many of us still remember the 
accurate and vivid descriptions which floated from the 
pens of our "ready writers" whilst the battle was going 
on, arid immediately afterwards. Scarcely in fact had 
the boom of the cannon died away in our ears, before, on 
chariots of swiftness, those eloquent and graphic notices 
were wafted as if by magic beneath our eyes. Most of 
these are as truthful as they are glowing and poetic. It 
was wonderful. It seemed almost as though the great 
Battle were writing its own history as it was going on, 
even as the sun in passing the meridian at Paris, an- 
nounces the fact to the inhabitants by firing off a cannon, 
or as the winds and rains may by machinery be made to 
record their quantities or velocities. If I am not rais- 
25 



290 OUR COUNTRY. 

taken, more than one of these narratives contained the 
suggestive word, Regeneration. 

And what that spot suggested physically and cosrai- 
cally, the time, the occasion, and all the accompaniments 
suggested politically and socially. This wonderful par- 
allelism between the outer and the inner world is too 
striking to be altogether fanciful. These two kinds of 
regeneration and transfiguration seem clearly, by the 
memorable epoch of its occurrence, by the words of 
scripture, and by the local peculiarities of the field itself, 
to be prefigured. 

What new forms of matter, what new crystallizations, 
may take place at the end of this our solar system, when 
solids are to be heated into fluidity, and all nature under 
the beams of a brighter and intenser Sun than ours, 
under the influence of that primal light, which was 
created before the planets, may be melted and trans- 
formed and ennobled, no earthly imagination can even 
conjecture. But that the particles now composing our 
bodies will, in some strange way, partake of the change. 
Holy Writ unmistakeably reveals to us. The philosophic 
Chladni found that by playing musical tunes with the 
bow of a violin along the smooth edges of vibratory 
plates, he could cause grains of sand and light substances 
to assume a variety of beautiful shapes and configura- 
tions. Who can tell what new forms the atoms of our 



THE FOUR RELICS. 291 

bodies and of other material substances may assume at 
the last day, should the music of the spheres, now to us 
inaudible, make itself heard throughout creation. 

And as to that nearer future, which many of us, I 
hope, may live to witness, and which is destined to 
change all our political and social organization into 
something nobler, grander and more perfect than any- 
thing we have yet enjoyed. — Oh! who can tell, after 
Slavery shall have been dissevered from its unnatural 
alliance with Liberty, what of glory and advancement, 
may belong to the hereafter of our history! 

And that little golden link of Brotherly Love, some 
notice of which has come to us in the message from the 
battle-field, — does it not belong to a chain, which after 
binding together more than hundreds of millions of human 
hearts, may reach up to the empyrean, and unite them 
all to the heart of the All-merciful! 



A BATTLE-EVE. 



The camp is silent. Weary soldiers rest 

iiefore to-morrow's work. The distant tents 

So white, and still, they look like shadowy sails 

Upon a far-off sea, — or Arab tents 

In drowsy, desert lands. All types of peace 

Would image this false-seeming, fatal peace ! 

The blind mole burrows on the battle plain ; 

The ants build tiny houses upon sand, 

A lamb might pasture here to-day unscared. 

The sun dies slowly in the passive West 
Not redder than his wont; — predicting blood 
In all his ebbing veins, — unwarned of blood, 
All nature dreams. Not yet the time for signs 
In sun, or moon, or stars. The highest hills 
That grow to know the secrets of the clouds, 
Are still no seers, that they tremble not 
With sense of coming thunder. Nor the floweri 
Are sybils even, to foretell this sorrow — 



A BATTLE-EVE. 293 

Weep dew to-night — -weep blood to-morrow. 
Fair flowers of the fated field ! The bees 
May starve to-morrow for these clover-blooms I 
And all these slender^ golden Southern moths, 
Like yellow marriage-rings that circle round 
The fingers of the locust fringes here — 
May thirst to-morrow for the nectar spilt. 

The gray oaks, century-wise, feel not one thrill 
The more, through all their ever shuddering leaves, 
Prescient of the dropping nests, the boughs 
Uptorn, — still less of all the graves, so soon 
To mark the spot ; the mad mirth of the guns. 
The life-blood in heroic veins, as full 
And blue as grapes trod out in such a press ; 
The cannon's shriek that makes the stars vibrate. 
The curses louder than the cannon's roar ! 
For curses, though they're whispered in a vault, 
Will reach the sad, recording Angel's ears. 
Above the thunder of exploding shells. 

What eye hath vision for to-morrow's night ? 
The battle fought, and past The air on fire 
Left smouldering into blackness, — and the dread, 
Wide silence settling down upon the breathing Death ! 
The fearful silence, that will not be dumb, 
25* 



294 OUK COUNTRY. 

But keeps on shivering with the passing souls, 
And breaking into dying moans ! The Death 
That will be Life still in the open eyes 
Fixed, staring at immortal mysteries 
Of other worlds, — unclosed in this : 

The brave 
Young Patriot, with the poor white face upturned ^ 
The blank blue eye, the red wound on the brow — 
So let him lie, and symbolize in death, 
His dear flag's colors, — red, and white, and blue. 



REMINISCENCES OF THE HANCOCKS. 



My position with Madam Hancock was such as to 
give me a fine opportunity to listen to her oft repeated 
stories of the Revolution and its results. 

Many facts are stereotyped in my mind, and I feel 
myself more familiar with the events of the years con- 
nected with 1775, than with any period in my own 
history. I have been often urged to transfer my remem- 
brances to paper, but have hitherto deferred doing it, so 
that the following will be an original statement. 

Truth is most desirable in all history. I am happy 
to say that I never could detect any deviation in my 
aunt's narration of the same events, for a course of years. 
Madam Hancock, previous to her marriage, was Miss 
Dorothy Quincy, the daughter of Judge Edmund Quincy, 
of Boston, Massachusetts. Her youngest brother, Dr. 
Jacob Quincy, was my grandfather. 

At her earnest request I resided with her, and was her 
daily companion for the last ten years of her life. Her 
death occurred in February, 1830, at the age of eighty- 



296 OUR COUNTRY. 

two years. She was married in 1775, to John Hancock, 
afterwards President of the First Congress, and then for 
a number of years Governor of Massachusetts. 

The wedding was in Fairfield, Connecticut. Mr. Han- 
cock had gone thither for safety, and was in concealment 
there, together with Samuel Adams, as a price had been 
put upon their heads by the King of England, It was 
therefore not deemed safe for Mr. H. to return to town 
that the marriage might take place in Boston. 

Their food was privately conveyed to them, and all 
social intercourse with their friends was prevented, lest it 
should expose their valued lives. 

After a time they were permitted to sit down again to 
the dinner table with the members of the family, in happy 
expectation of a comfortable repast after long abstinence. 
Before, however, they had realized the anticipated plea- 
sure, a farmer from the neighborhood came in greatly 
excited, and requested the Rev. Mr. Clark (at whose 
house they were staying) to lend him his horse and 
chaise to go after his wife, as the British were coming, 
and he did not know but that she was in eternity now. 
This news scattered in a moment the whole party. 
Messrs. Adams and Hancock were hurried away to their 
hiding place, and aunt said it was always a matter of 
wonder to her what became of that dinner, for none of 
those who sat down to it ever tasted of it. The alarm 



REMINISCENCES OF THE HANCOCKS. 297 

was occasioned by a false report, but there was a time 
when the leaden balls of the enemy reached their resi- 
dence. 

On one occasion the aunt of Governor Hancock was 
catching a sight from an open window of the distant con- 
flict, when a soldier begged her to take her head inside of 
the window as a ball had just passed her and lodged in 
the barn. In a fortnight after the birth of her first child, 
Madam Hancock was conveyed on a bed with her baby 
to her carriage, to journey from Boston in the cold of 
winter to Philadelphia, to accompany her husband, who 
was chosen President of the first Congress. She often 
spoke of the reluctance of her husband, arising from his 
natural modesty, to take the chair of ofiice. When 
hesitating to take the President's chair, one of the mem- 
bers clasped him round the waist, lifted him from his feet 
and placed him in the Chair of State. While in Phila- 
delphia, one evening, hearing the cry of murder, he ran 
into the house from which the cry proceeded, and found 
a man beating his wife. He attempted to release her 
from her perilous condition, but was surprised by a 
furious attack on himself from the liberated wife for 
interference in their family difl&culties. Mr. H. remarked 
it was a lesson that would last him for life. 

While Madam Hancock was in Philadelphia, her 
husband came to her room one day saying that he had 



298 OUR COUNTRY. 

a secret to communieate which must be faithfully kept. 
It was, that he had that day received a letter from home 
stating that it was thought it would be necessary to burn 
the town of Boston for the public good, and to prevent 
its falling into the hands of the enemy: and as his large 
wealth was centred there, he had been asked if he would 
be willing to sacrifice his whole estate to such an object. 
He immediately replied that they had his full consent 
to commit his property to the flames, if the good of 
the people demanded it. This, Madam H. replied, 
was rather a disagreeable secret. Her husband acknow- 
ledged that it would reduce them to beggary. But his 
purpose was fixed. He wished his property to be devoted 
to the best interests of his country. 

She was at this time just preparing for her first attend- 
ance upon a Quaker meeting. Nor did this terrible 
announcement, or the thought of what might be the 
fearful result, overcome her even so much as to deter her 
from the proposed attendance upon the meeting. 

I have heard her relate how the room was crowded 
when she arrived at the place, and how the painful secret 
weighed upon her as she sat in that over-heated room 
for three hours, waiting to hear what she supposed to be 
a forthcoming speech, that she hoped would relieve her 
mind for the time. But no relief came, for no utterance 



REMINISCENCES OF THE HANCOCKS. 299 

broke the silence before it was time for the "parting 
adieu." 

On further consideration, the inhabitants of Bostou 
deemed it unnecessary to burn the town. 

At the time when the "Continental Money" was nearly 
worthless, Governor Hancock expressed his opinion in 
favor of the poor soldiers who were thus wronged by 
receiving their pay in this depreciated currency. His 
generosity had long been proverbial, and he gave them 
dollar for dollar in good money, and took in return their 
valueless paper, for wiiich he received only one cent for 
a dollar when he came to dispose of it. He gave twenty- 
five hundred dollars in this Continental Scrip for a bell- 
metal skillet, the price of which was twenty-five dollars 
in good money. This skillet was in a perfect state of 
preservation in 1830, and is probably now in Boston or 
its vicinity. There were men in high position who 
bought of the poor sailors and soldiers the depreciated 
paper they had received for their severe labors, and kept 
it till its value was increased, and thus made fortunes in 
an operation that was little better than robbery of the 
poor and destitute. 

It was not so with Governor Hancock; his sympathy 
for the wronged and injured men led him to continue 
taking the bad paper of those who presented it, until his 



300 OUR COUNTRY. 

friends saw that he would soon dispose of bis wbole 
fortune in this way. 

They told his wife that "the money frunJx''' must be 
removed from the house, or she and her child would be 
penniless; and without consulting the G-overnor it was 
removed. The wisdom of this precaution could not be 
denied. 

At tbat time he resided in the tlien magnificent 
mansion built by Thomas Hancock, and left at his death 
to his adopted nephew John Hancock. It was situated 
on Beacon street, opposite Boston Common, and was the 
finest residence in the town. In 1863, this house, built 
in 1737, and remaining more than one hundred years, 
was taken down. It had been held by the Hancock 
family, till the last year, when it was necessarily sold in 
accordance with the will of John Hancock, nephew to 
the Governor. 

His Excellency, lived in style and luxury. He was 
noted for his hospitality ; kept an open house and a 
sumptuous table for his friends. 

General Lafayette accepted the Governor's invitation 
on his first visit to this country, to pass his time with 
him at his house. The General was a warm friend of 
Madam H., who was the first lady whom he honored with 
a call on his second visit to our country. It is probable, 
that few, if any, in his day, surpassed the Governor in 



REMINISCENCES OF THE HANCOCKS. 301 

his style of living. His equipage was a carriage and 
four horses. His coach was fitted up in good taste. It 
was noted for its brilliant plate glass and handsome 
ornaments; and was suitable both for parade and for 
travelling, being provided with pockets and various con- 
veniences. It is now in possession of Hon, A. W. H, 
Clapp, of Portland, Maine, whose mother was niece to 
Madam H. Thirteen servants, and a goodly number of 
horses were attached to the service of the Governor's 
family. His wife had a fine pony, with a light drab 
colored saddle-cloth, very richly embroidered with silver 
thread. Her riding- whip was first owned and used by 
the Governor's aunt, who gave it to her, and she gave it 
to me. It is now in the possession of Miss Quincy, 
daughter of Hon. Josiah Quincy, of Boston, Mass. 

The hospitality of his Excellency was acknowledged 
by all. He gave weekly, what was called "a salt-fish 
dinner," on Saturday. This was an elaborate aff'air, 
and duly prized in those days. At these dinners, there 
was always a place for his minister, Rev. Dr. Cooper. 
Prince Edward, while travelling in this country, called 
on Madam Hancock, and made himself very agreeable, 
telling her that he was said to resemble some noted 
personage, and asking what she thought of his "red 
whiskers." The friends of the Prince, regretted that 
^6 



302 OUR COUNTRY. 

Madam H. did not give him an invitation to her "fish 
dinner," as it was Saturday when he made the call. 

We may gather some idea of the Governor's style of 
living, by the fact that at a time when visiting a niece of 
his wife, in Portsmouth, N. H., they travelled with their 
coach and four, with two out-riders, a postillion, a coach- 
man and a footman; seven horses, with servants in livery. 
The first day of their journey, they reached Marblehead, 
on the second they arrived in Portsmouth which was 
sixty miles from their home. At another time, they 
were a fortnight travelling from Boston to Philadelphia, 
in similar style 

Once when journeying on this route. Madam H. found 
after stopping over night at a certain place, that her 
horses were so jaded that they could not proceed the next 
day. On inquiry, it was ascertained that they had been 
taken in the night and used on a pleasure excursion in 
honor of St. Patrick's day. 

Governor H. was a great sufierer from that "aristo- 
cratic disease," the gout. At one time when he returned 
from public business, he was so ill, that, as his wife said, 
he was taken from his carriage in the arms of his servants, 
and laid upon the sofa, till the tailor who made him the 
new suit of clothes he had on, could cut them ofi", so that 
he could be carried with less pain to his sleeping room. 
At another time, when suffering in a similar way, he went 



REMINISCENCES OF THE HANCOCKS. 303 

as usual to the State House, which was, at that time, at 
the head of State street, to attend to his appointed duties. 
He was soon surrounded by an admiring multitude who, 
after he had entered his carriage in which his wife had 
come to meet him, commenced removing the four horses 
from the carriage, with the determined purpose of them- 
selves drawing him to his home in Beacon street. Four 
hundred men were already forming in procession with 
this intent. 

The Governor was exceedingly overcome by this demon- 
stration of public respect, and being so ill that he could 
not speak for himself, he requested his wife (who was 
noted for her personal beauty) to address the crowd from 
the carriage window, and say to them that the Governor 
was overwhelmed by the honor they desired to confer 
upon him, that he gratefully acknowledged the kindness 
of the feelings that prompted the act, but he must beg 
them to permit him in his present weak state, to be taken 
by his horses as rapidly as possible to his home. His 
request was granted. 

I have often heard Madam H. repeat the circumstances 
of his being severely afflicted with the gout, when General 
Washington was expected to make his first appearance in 
Boston. The General had accepted an invitation to dine 
that day with the Governor; but there was a suggestion 
made to the General, that etiquette demanded that the 



304 OUR COUNTRY. 

Governor should be at the entrance of the town to 
welcome him. After some two hours delay about this 
question, the General, who was exposed in delicate health 
to a cold wind, asked if there was no other entrance to 
the town by which he could speedily reach his lodgings. 
Being answered in the negative, he ordered the cavalcade 
to move on at quick pace, and went directly to his place 
of lodging. The Governor, all this time, was delaying 
his dinner in constant expectation of the distinguished 
guest. The report was soon whispered about, why the 
General was not present. 

The next day, the Governor ordered his carriage, and 
with limbs wrapped in red baize, he was put into it in 
order to call on the General. When he arrived at his 
lodgings, he was carried in the arms of his servants to 
the head of the stairs, and from thence he crawled on his 
hands and knees into the presence of the Commander-in- 
Chief. The General meeting him in this position, was 
moved to tears. All difficulties being soon removed, kind- 
ness and cordiality were reciprocated. Madam Washing- 
ton and Madam Hancock were friends. Madam W. 
would say to Madam H., "there is a great difference in 
our situations. Your husband is in the Cabinet, but mine 
is on the battle-field." Persons of high position of his 
own and other countries, were often the favored guests 
in Governor Hancock's family. While the French fleet 



REMINISCENCES OF THE HANCOCKS. 305 

was in Boston harbor, Count D'Estaing and some other 
persons of rank were with their life guards visiting the 
Governor. Governor H. sent a note to the Admiral 
of the fleets to take a breakfast with him and to bring 
with him thirty of his officers. The Admiral accepted 
the invitation, but sent a request to the Governor to 
permit him the pleasure of bringing all his officers, 
including the midshipmen. This request was granted, 
but not without some solicitude as to the possibility of 
accommodating three hundred officers and providing for 
their entertainment. In those days, there were not the 
facilities of confectioners and other resources of the 
present time. It was summer, and carts and wagons 
were pressed into the service to bring from the surround- 
ing country the various fruits of the season. 

It was found that milk sufficient for the demand could 
not be obtained even from the whole vicinity of Boston. 
Boston Common was at that time used as a place of pas- 
turage for cows, and Madam Hancock in her dilemma, 
requested the life guards and the servants of the family 
to take pitchers, mugs and bowls, and to milk all the 
cows on the Common, and if any persons objected to send 
them to her, and she would explain the matter. This 
was a novel proceeding, and made a laughable exhibition 
to the public, but it was a success, and gave offence to 
no one. 

26* 



306 OUR COUNTRY. 

Eleven o'clock was the hour for bretikfast. The officers 
at the appointed time were seen entering the farthest end 
of the Common, in front of the Governor's house. I 
have often heard aunt describe that scene and the events 
of the day. She was naturally very calm and tranquil in 
her manner, but when speaking of that day, she always 
evinced great animation, and seemed to feel again the fire 
and excitement of the scene. She said the Eastern sun 
shed his full rays on the bright gold lace that covered in 
a most elaborate manner the persons of the French 
officers, and in their march to the house, the brilliancy 
and beauty of the display exceeded anything she ever 
before or afterward saw of military parade. The whole 
affair was well gotten up, and gave great satisfaction to 
all. The Admiral soon after returned the compliment by 
giving a grand dinner on board his ship to the Grovernor 
and his lady. Madam H. occupied the seat of honor, 
and at her right hand was a large rosette of ribbons that 
was attached to something under the table by a strong 
rope. This was a mystery to her, and gave her no small 
curiosity as to its design. At the moment when the 
toasts were to be given, the Admiral's Aide who sat next 
to her, requested that she would raise the ribbons. She 
obeyed, and in doing so she fired the signal-gun, and in 
an instant, it was replied to by every vessel in the fleet. 
This was a distinguished honor paid to Madam Hancock, 



REMINISCENCES OF THE HANCOCKS. 307 

for the attention shown to the Admiral and his officers, 
by the Grovernor and herself. 

At the Annual Commencement of Harvard College 
it was the custom for the Governor and the "Boston 
Cadets" (his escort) to be present at the College exer- 
cises. It was the pleasure of the Governor that this 
Military Company should take their breakfast with him 
that morning. And as the services at Cambridge com- 
menced at nine, A. M., a very early breakfast must be 
given, in order that the Governor and his lady with his 
escort, might be able to be in readiness for their place 
and duties at the appointed time. But his indomitable 
will carried out this plan for several years, in spite of its 
great inconvenience to his wife, who was compelled, in 
order to be present at the breakfast table, to summon 
her hair dresser at four o'clock in the morning. The day 
was always one of extreme fatigue to her. 

Governor H. was a friend of the colored race, and 
they were in the habit of marching in procession annually 
on a certain day before his house, and having stopped in 
front of it, the Governor would address them from the 
balcony. He was in the habit of riding through the 
country in the summer, and if he came to an unfinished 
church, he would inquire the reason of its remaining in 
that state. If the reply was that they could not com- 
mand the money to complete it, he would encourage them 



308 OUR COUNTRY. 

to go on, by saying, "I will pay for the glazing if you 
will go to work and have it finished." He did this many 
times. 

He kept the yearly fast in spring on fish, but his 
dinner was always from ofi" the first salmon of the season, 
for which he paid a guinea. He had a fine dinner-set of 
pewter ordered from England. It was the duty of his 
household to see that this pewter was kept at the highest 
point of brightness, and used every day to the exclusion 
of the valuable Indian-China set, which he also owned. 
He preferred to use the pewter instead of the china, 
because, as he said, the contents of the plates and dishes 
were not so apt to slide off; and also, that the use of 
them made no clatter in contact with knives and forks. 
He had a large quantity of silver, much of it bearing the 
tower stamp of England. He had four dozen silver forks 
matched with the same number of silver table spoons. 
Among his silver were many tankards of difi"erent sizes. 
One very large, holding a gallon or more, he devoted to 
hot punch exclusively; this he called "Solomon Town- 
send," in honor of a friend. He had also a large silver 
porter cup, holding two quarts or more, with two massive 
handles, intended, I presume, to be passed from guest to 
guest, that each might quafi" in turn from the same cup. 
Much of his silver not only bore the "tower stamp," but 
had also his own coat of arms engraved upon it. 



REMINISCENCES OF THE HANCOCKS. 309 

I remember among his silver, a wash bowl, silver 
salvers, asparagus tongs, four heavy silver chaffing dishes, 
four silver butter-boats, with various other odd articles; 
also six heavy silver candlesticks, and a silver snuffer 
and snuff dish. The snuff dish was bought at the family 
auction for me and is still in my possession. It has the 
Hancock coat of arms upon it. The Governor had a 
passion for the portraits of his distinguished guests, which 
were painted to his order for his hall of paintings. Red 
coats and other bright colors were worn by the gentlemen 
of his day. Governor H. had an epicurean taste, and all 
the delicacies of the season might be found upon his 
table. After his death his wife kept up his custom in 
these matters; she said to me one day: "The Governor's 
hobby was his dinner table, and I suppose it is mine." 
From early morning till eleven at night, Madam H's 
house was open for the reception of friends and strangers, 
as it had been while her husband was living. She was 
for years one of the "wonders of the age" — and as the 
widow of Governor H., she was visited till the close of 
her life by distinguished persons from foreign countries, 
as well as our own. She so long studied the epicurean 
tastes of her husband that she excelled in the rich viands 
that were known at her table. With the Hancock house 
are associated venison dinners and mince-pies, that van- 
ished when that house was taken down, and cannot now 



310 OUR COUNTRY. 

be procured anywhere in the country in the state of per- 
fection in which they were found at the mansion on 
Beacon street, in the pahiiy days of the Hancocks. 

There are some few persons living who have the 
luxurious flavor of those feasts still linfjerino; on their 
palates, and who do not cease to aim at their restoration. 
Not, however, for the reason that such feasting bears any 
importance in comparison with the ample and true sup- 
plying of the intellectual and spiritual wants of our 
higher nature, but rather for the associations that exist 
in the minds of those who mingled with the society that 
gathered around that generous board of delicious tastes 
and fragrant flavors. 

Governor Hancock was the son of a clergyman, but 
adopted by his uncle, who left him a very large fortune 
for the period in which he lived. At the age of twenty- 
one he went to England, was admitted to Court, and 
kissed the hand of King Greorge. He was a man of 
warm sympathies, as well as of a strong will. One 
morning, when entering the town in his phseton, at a 
very early hour, he saw a poor woman with a large 
bundle, trudging along the road. He ordered the horses 
to be stopped, and inquiring where she was going, was 
informed that she was a "washer-woman" on her way 
to the town. He had both herself and her bundle 
placed in the open carriage, and went with them to her 



HEMINISCENCES OF THE HANCOCKS. 311 

stopping place. Such acts made him king in the hearts 
of the 2^eople . 

His temper was sometimes so violent as to lead some 
to question his benevolence; for when suffering from a 
fit of the gout, he would almost outrage common sense. 
Two or three circumstances, illustrating this, will also 
show what prompt and perfect obedience he required of his 
servants. Shut up in his sick room, he could not always 
be sure that his orders were carried out to his full requisi- 
tion. He had repeatedly forbidden the use of the China 
table service, and directed that the pewter should, at all 
times, be used. The unreasonableness of this direction 
consisted in the difficulty of keeping a pewter set in con- 
stant fitness for use. He called Cato, his favorite colored 
servant, to his room on one occasion, and asked him if 
the China set had been used that day. Being answered 
in the affirmative, he said, "I thought so. Now go down 
stairs and bring up a pile of China dishes." The servant 
soon returned with the dishes in his hands. The Grov- 
ernor said, "now open the window and throw them out." 
Cato did as he was told, but took good care to open a 
window over a bank of soft turf, and to give them a 
gentle slide as he let them drop, so that none of them 
were injured. The Governer said, "I don't hear them 
break. Go down, Cato, and bring them up again." The 
dishes were a second time produced. "Now," said he, 



312 OUR COUNTRY. 

"open the window over the paved coach-yard, and throw 
them out." This order being obeyed, the dishes were 
destroyed. At another time he told Cato he wished to 
have the ' 'gobbler'' in the coach-yard killed for the next 
day's dinner. The house being already supplied with 
provisions, it was deemed inexpedient to kill it then. 

After dinner next day the Governor called Cato to his 
bed-side* to know if that turkey had been cooked as he 
had ordered. The servant had to acknowledge that it 
was not even killed. His master said, "Go out now and 
kill it, and give it to the cook. Tell her to put it on the 
spit without picking or drawing it, and roast itfoiir hours 
just as you carry it to her." The fire places were large 
and open for the burning of wood, and the turkey was 
put on a spit that turned regularly round, dipping the 
feathers into the fire, then into the drippings in turn 
continually, till the house was filled with smoke and the 
odor of burnt feathers, of which the Governor's own room 
received a full share. When his severe malady was 
playing its pranks upon his sensitive nerves, he could 
not tolerate the slightest noise, and the merest jarring of 
his nerves was no slight ofi'ence. A young girl was 
sitting in the entry near the open door of his room and 
busying herself in curling her hair. The rattling of the 
paper disturbed him, and he called to her to know what 
that noise was. She, fearing his reproof, quickly an- 



REMINISCENCES OF THE HANCOCKS. 313 

swered, "the cat scratching, sir." He pardoned the 
untruth for the adroitness with which she evaded his 
displeasure. 

Governor H. was one day riding with his wife in their 
carriage, when they met Samuel Adams walking with the 
sheriff beside him. He said to Mr. A., "what is the 
meaning of this." Mr. A. replied, "I am going to jail, 
as I cannot satisfy the sheriff's demands." The Gover- 
nor said he would see to that and settle the demand, and 
bade the sheriff leave his prisoner. Many times was his 
purse opened for Mr. A's benefit, under similar circum- 
stances.* 

The Governor had a very large marquee made, which 
he wished to see displayed for once at least, on the ground 
now occupied by the present State House. His wish. 

* Samuel Adams was one of the great men of the period of 
the Revolution. His neglect of his own interests often involved 
him in pecuniaiy embarrassments. In the Memoirs of Hancock, 
in the Encyclopgedia Americana, we find the following remarks: 
"Hancock was a magnificent liver, lavishly bountiful, and splen- 
didly hospitable; Samuel Adams had neither the means no-r the 
inclination for pursuing a similar course. He was studiously 
simple and frugal, and was of an austere, unbending character. 
In fact, they differed so widely in their mode of living and general 
dispositions, that their concurrence in political measures may be 
considered one of the strongest proofs of their patriotism." 

Editor. 

27 



314 OUR COUNTRY. 

however, could not be gratified. The time for its erec- 
tion was to be on the day of the annual General Review 
of all the military companies in the month of October. 
He requested his wife to have a collation provided on 
that occasion for all the officers. He was at that time 
prostrated with his last fatal attack of the gout. He did 
not appear to apprehend that he was so near the close of 
his earthly career. She was informed by the physician 
that his death might occur at any hour. Madam H. 
could not therefore make the necessary preparations for 
such a public display. At her refusal to comply with 
this long cherished wish of his heart, her husband was 
much displeased; and she often said she could not feel 
satisfied that she had his full forgiveness for not carrying 
out his plans on that occasion. He became increasingly 
ill, and at ten o'clock on that very day, the occasion of 
the great military parade, it was announced that he was 
dying — the companies were ordered to leave the Common; 
and hushed were the drum and fife with all their military 
inspiration, while the Commander and chief of the State 
was passing into the immediate presence of the Great 
Judge of all men. 

Governor H. left orders that he should be buried 
without public honors, and forbade the firing of a gun 
over his grave. The State Government chose to have 
the management of the whole affair, and told Madam H. 



REMINISCENCES OF THE HANCOCKS. 315 

that the funeral and its expenses belonged to the State. 
She submitted reluctantly to the arrangement But 
she finally had to pay the bills of the obsequies, which 
amounted to eighteen hundred dollars. This was occa- 
sioned by a vote of the Legislature not to bury any more 
Governors. However, the law was changed before the 
death of another Governor, so that this case is the only 
one on record where the funeral expenses of a Governor 
have not been paid out of the State Treasury. 

A will was found after the death of Governor Hancock 
without signature, in which he gave the most of his 
property to the State. His daughter died at the age of 
nine months, and his son at the age of ten years. His 
patriotism remained unquestionable to the last of his life. 
Madam Hancock died in her eighty-second year. For 
some time previous to her death she went but little into 
society, but whenever she appeared was received with 
great attention.* 

* As this article has already exceeded the space allotted it, we 
are compelled to omit interesting quotations from Mrs. Ellet's 
"Women of the Revolution," and the "Atlantic Monthly," on 
the taking; down of the old Hancock House in 1863. — Editor. 



THE SPIRIT OF MARYLAND IN 1794. 



[The following Song was composed for S. Hanson, Esq, of 
Alexandria, and sung bj' him as President, at a public dinner, 
July 4th, 1794, at which General Washington was present. — 
The following memorandum in the hand-writing of the author, 
Chancellor Kiltj, accompanies the original copy: 

"At the first verse, which is copied from the old English 
Song, the English merchants and tories were much pleased, 
and crowded to the head of the table, and General Washington 
showed some surprise — at the third verse they resumed their 
places."]* 

When Britain first at Heaven's command, 

Arose from out the azure main, 
This was the charter of the land — 

And guardian Angels sung the strain; 
"Rule Britannia, Britannia rule the waves, 
For Britons never shall be slaves." 

* This Song was presented by a niece of Chancellor Kilty, as 
not being known to exist in print; — it forms the only exception 
to articles from living authors offered expressly for this volume, 
except in the Introduction — Editor. 



THE SPIRIT OF MARYLAND IN 1794. 317 

Twas thus, when rival nations strove, 
Ere Freedom's sacred name was known, 

That, ardent with their country's love. 
And claiming Ocean as their own, 

They sung "Britannia, Britannia rule the waves. 

For Britons never shall be slaves." 

But wherefore Britons rule the waves; 

Why grasp the wide extended sea; 
Must all the world beside, be slaves, 

That only Britons may be free? 
Hence, then Britannia no more shall rule the waves; 
Nor see the Nations round her slaves. 

On every coast, on every shore, 

The bounteous sea her treasure spreads; 

To countless millions wafts her store, 
Nor tribute pays to crowned Heads; 

Hence, then Britannia, no longer rule the waves, 

Nor seek to make thy equals slaves. 

For see ! Columbia's sons arise; 

Firm, independent, bold and free; 
They too shall seize the glorious prize, 

And share the Empire of the sea; 
Hence, then, let freemen, let freemen rule the waves; 
And those who yield them still be slaves. 
27* 



318 OUR COUNTRY. 

This glorious day which still shall live 

Illustrious, in the book of fame; 
This day revolving, still shall give 

A kindling spark of freedom's flame. 
And we as freemen, we'll use, not rule the waves, 
Nor own a power to make us slaves. 

And still on this auspicious day, 

Like friends and brethren, let us join 
In concert tune the festive lay. 

Sacred to Liberty, divine, 
Which still will guard us in land and on the waves, 
Determined never to be slaves. 

Nor on this day let memory fail, 

To celebrate each Hero slain; 
With Patriot tears their fate bewail; 

Who died our freedom to obtain. 
Which may we cherish in land and on the waves, 
Nor change from freemen to be slaves. 

But chiefly him whose faithful toils 

Led us to Liberty and Peace, 
On whom America still smiles 

With gratitude that ne'er shall cease; 
Long may the Hero live, who still his Country saves, 
Nor ever let him see us slaves. 



FIELD LILIES. 



Out of the most terrible of all human calamities, a 
civil war, a mysterious Providence elicits greatness, free- 
dom and progress for a nation; and from the depths of 
individual suffering are brought up some of the brightest 
and rarest gems of character. In the hearts of the 
bereaved, (and this expression includes almost every 
person, either directly or remotely,) there has yet been a 
consolation in the thought of the noble qualities that 
sought activity in a struggle for right and freedom, 
against misrule and barbarism; and the mourner has said 
through all her tears for the slain, that it was "sweet and 
becoming to die for one's country." Even through the 
mist of blood and darkness that has hung over the land 
for the last three years, we can see the effect of this fiery 
baptism on the character of our people. Especially is 
it seen in the class of young women ; and we might 
naturally expect this to be the case. Our women do not 
go merely as nurses to soldiers, — they go to bind up 
the wounds of brother, cousin, lover. In the veins of 



320 OUR COUNTRY. 

this northern army, bivouacked on morasses, rushing up 
against cannon, or'sleeping exhausted on weltering fields, 
runs the blood of our noblest and best families, and 
invisible cords bind every beating heart on the battle- 
field to the warm hearth-stone of home, and the loving 
looks of wife, sisters, and parents. 

As there never was such an army before, of unbought 
patriotism and fervent enthusiasm for national honor, so 
there never was a more beautiful corresponding efl"ect 
on the character of our women. The Spartan mothers 
said as they handed shields to their departing warriors, 
"Return with it, or on it!" The Roman and Grecian 
soldiers marched away to rapine or conquest, cheered by 
the wild songs of Bacchantes and inspired by dusky 
Delphic prophecies. Our youth go, calmly and resolutely, 
with the patience and set purpose of their pilgrim ances- 
tors, to the defence of all that is best and noblest in 
national character. They go with eyes wide open to all 
the possible results of the conflict, but with hope and 
determination stronger than the fear of death. Their 
battle-flag is the sign not only of victory, but of all that 
makes victory worth having, and "God save the grand 
old Stripes and Stars" stirs every drop of heroic blood, 
and gives the world assurance of a man ! 

Such lovers, husbands and fathers leave women of a cor- 
responding type behind them to encourage, to strengthen, 



FIELD LILIES. 321 

and if necessary, to console. The time and the circum- 
stances, have brought out the character. Noble traits, 
that might otherwise have slept, are wakened by the stir 
of lofty emotion to happy self-sacrifice. Our field-lilies 
that toiled not, nor span, were yet rivals of Solomon in 
the glory of their apparel, are converted into seed-grain, 
ripe for the sickle. Vanity is turned into nobleness, and 
prodigality into thrift. 

To see young girls, whose white and slender fingers 
have been too dainty to do, in all their lives, one useful 
thing; who not only did not know how to do one useful 
thing, but who piqued themselves on this delightful 
ignorance, who lived the lives of butterflies and humming 
birds, and sang and danced till the day was done, — to 
see them now, going out of all that frivolity and entering 
a new life of industry and interest, is to feel that indeed 
good does come out of evil. It is beautiful to see the 
steady and constant industry of these busy bees. How 
untiring in their work of making garments for the sick 
and wounded, and how industriously they toil at every 
variety, however coarse, for the comfort of the common 
soldier. How far removed even, is their daily talk and 
thoughts from the petty interests that formerly occupied 
them; how deeply engaged they are in discussing subjects 
above and beyond their personal occupations, and which 
often involve high and extended contemplations. In 



322 OUR COUNTRY. 

looking at them we feel that souls are indeed ripening 
in these Northern skies, and that the regeneration of 
so many brave and noble young hearts pays the price 
of much suffering. 

"As their day is, so shall their strength be." Let us 
hope that this probation of effort and endurance may 
produce all the needed results of fortitude and self- 
reliance. For this war is to make widows and orphans, 
sisters with no brothers to care for and shelter them, and 
mothers with no sons to uphold their age and infirmity. 
In many places, the whole face of society will be changed. 
From l^eing cherished, women must uphold themselves; 
and the wind that erewhile was not suffered to blow on 
their tender cheeks, lest it touch them rudely, will be left 
to strike blastingly with the tempestuous force of poverty 
and desertion. Let them not be afraid to look these 
possible, nay probable, results of war squarely in the 
face. 

It seems likely that, for a long future, it will be neces- 
sary for women to make active exertions for their own 
maintenance, merely from the fact of their sex being in 
excess of the other. They must change their relations 
to the public in some measure, and perhaps assume 
many employments heretofore exclusively occupied by 
men. There have been many kinds of labor very well 
suited to the strength and ability of women, but which 



FIELD LILIES. 323 

have been connected with a publicity, that made them 
undesirable. The free discussion of topics connected 
with female labor has, however, so far familiarized the 
public mind with them, that no surprise is expressed or 
felt at women's occupying places formerly prohibited 
to them, or monopolized by men. Doctresses, post- 
mistresses and saleswomen, are likely to have a remu- 
nerative profit for their labor, as well as a respectable 
social position. Many kinds of domestic labor will be 
necessary, and in some degree fashionable If it is 
fashionable now to listen at the lecture-room, while the 
busy fingers weave coarse yarn into soldiers' stockings, — 
if the belle receives her morning calls, with the drawing 
room strewn with hospital socks and blue shirts, much 
more will it be fashionable to continue to labor, for one's 
self or for others, when exertion is sanctified by high 
impulses, noble sacrifices, and sacred recollections It is 
well that our young girls should look forward to this state 
of things. Not despondently, not fearfully, but with 
hope and cheerfulness. l:)etter, a thousand times, that 
you wear out with the sharp attrition of active exertion, 
than that you rust out in the inanity of a useless existence. 
If it be denied to you to be a cherished and petted wife, 
you may still be a helpful sister, a devoted daughter, or a 
soothing companion to a helpless or wounded husband. 



324 OUR COUNTRY. 

We knew, — for even in the midst of the blind rush of 
our old delirious prosperity, there was virtue enough left 
in the country to say it, — we knew that we had drifted, 
as a people, far out of sight of the principles of our 
fathers, on which this country was settled, and this 
republic founded. We heard the voice of prophecy and 
denunciation — the "TT'o/ unto this goodly land!'"' We 
heard, but we folded our hands, and said. "J^>rts nous, 
le deluge '' The deluge, however, has come upon us, and 
not on our innocent children. For them, a brighter path 
opens through suffering. No more of pampering luxury, 
no more dreary idleness, vapidness and dissatisfaction. 
Instead of these, let them take on the ancestral virtues 
of fortitude and labor with cheerfulness and christian 
dignity. And this is well for our young girls; so well, 
that even if they must give up during their whole lives^ 
the pleasing task of decorating their persons and adorning 
their minds, they will still have gained immeasurably in 
mental elevation, and their whole plain of action and 
thought be habitually higher. 

Through the changes necessitated by this war, a large 
class of single women will be thrown out of employment. 
There will not be schools enough for teachers, nor pianos 
enough for the instructors of music. Let us hope there 
will be more attention to domestic labor, and to all the 
employments which serve as oil on the hinges of daily life. 



FIELD LILIES. 325 

In the immediate future of our country, there will 
doubtless be a closer inweaving of all classes, through the 
intense and common interest for the general good. For 
the homes made desolate, there is a common and tearful 
sympathy; as for the triumphs of the field, the whole 
city and country has one heart-throb of gladness. The 
cause is that of brothers, and unites us in one great and 
strong bond. Not the less shall we feel it, if, in a happy 
future, we behold ourselves once more, both North and 
South, rallied under what our soldiers joyfully die for, 
"The dear old Flag!" 



28 



A NEEDED REFORM. 



One beneficial effect of the present war, may be to 
elevate the general tone of female character, by supply- 
ing generous motives for action. The habit of working, 
too, for a benevolent purpose, will be formed in many 
whose time has hitherto been frittered away in trifling 
occupations. An observing person can hardly fail to 
notice the fresh impulse given to industry among a class 
of women placed above the necessity of labor, and the 
laudable perseverance with which they support patriotic 
enterprises. Better, still, would it be, if economy in per- 
sonal expenditure would go hand in hand with industry; 
if the inordinate love of display which gives a cold, 
hollow, and artificial character to social life in our large 
cities, could be effectually checked. 

Our progress in luxury — in the taste for splendor and 
extravagant outlay — is universally known. The West 
became oriental long ago, and is growing "more so" 
every day. The Persian graces may have given up their 
hair-binding nets of gold; silver battle-axes may have 



A NEEDED REFORM. 327 

tlisappeared from the plains of Tartary ; and Circassian 
maidens may no longer imitate the blush of morning; 
but our horizon brightens as the East grows dull. We 
attire ourselves with the sunset, and deck our walls with 
the ornaments of buried cities. Our gold is double 
gilded, and our lilies are painted beyond description. 
We are a violet-broidered, saffron-mantled, rose-crowned, 
golden-zoned, impearled, pink and azure people. Our 
shawls are from the gorgeous looms of the Indies. We 
have basquines and bretelles of pearl-embroidered lace 
and gems; dove-colored taffeta and Raphael boddices; 
mantles of cerulean and ruby, bordered with silk and 
silver, and lined with costly furs; embroideries like rivers 
of pearls, clustering bouquets of rubies, sapphires, and 
emeralds. Our head dresses are a cloud of gold and 
silver tissues, embracing glowing wreaths and rich 
pendants of flowers; while silver rainbows encircle our 
necks, and serpents with eyes of flashing gems, guard 
the diamonds on our wrists. African jewels and Assyrian 
drapery; why not the golden bells of Arabia, the mirrors 
of Barbary, and the coins of Faristan ! In the Malayan, 
the same term is used for a woman and a flower; here the 
whole floral kingdom would not be her match. 

When their taste is so improved, or their vanity so 
kept in check, that our women cease to emulate the 
Indian lady who imprisoned a thousand fire-flies in her 



328 OUR COUNTRY. 

gauze skirt, their real grace and refinement will appear. 
The confusion of decorations and finery has hitherto 
obscured those charming qualities. As our men become 
more martial in deportment, more stern in probity, and 
more truly patriotic in character, the fairer part of crea- 
tion ought to cultivate the enduring virtues, casting off 
the dross which is all sparkle and gorgeousness. The 
needs of the country might be supplied by the treasures 
saved from the dress of its women; saved too, without 
the sacrifice of a single genuine charm. But who shall 
set the example in the reform so desirable ? Who, but 
those who can best afford to do without the tinsel and 
mockery of foolish extravagance, because they possess 
attractions not dependent on sumptuous array. 



AIME DE MON C(EUR 



With a dauntless daring high 
Blazing in thine eagle eye, 
And thy true hand lightly pressed 
On thy maiden sword in rest — 
Blessings on thy noble head, 
Scion of the warlike dead ! 
Tears may fall, but not allure 
From thy patriot purpose pure — 
To the battle hasten on ! 
Aime de mon Coeur! 

Thou hast heard thy country call — 
Thou hast seen her brave sons fall 
In the fratricidal strife 
With rebellious passion rife ; 
Thou hast seen the hallowed graves 
Of her consecrated braves, 
Claimed by mocking lips impure ! 
To the rescue thou hast gone, 
Aime de mon Coeur ! 
28* 



330 OUR COUNTRY. 

Thou hast seen our banner gleam, 
Like a glory through thy dream; 
Counted every blazing star, 
As it beckoned thee afar — 
Sainted sires of old renown, 
From its azure field looked down : 
Noble names thy cause assure; 
Patriot deeds thy rights secure; 
Guard their sacred ensign well. 
Aime de nion Coeur ! 

But alas ! Thy haughty foe ! 
Striving madly to o'erthrow 
Fairest fabric ever wrought, 
Wisdom's sagest master thought ! 
Like proud Absalom in ire, 
Battling 'against his kingly sire, 
Must a Joab's arrow sure 
Penetrate through shades obscure, 
Striking at a brother's heart ? 
Aime de mon Coeur! 

Ay ! the silvered heads of age, 
Bow in shame ! their heritage — 
Must their blood bedew the soil ? 
Must it be the rebel's spoil ? 



AIME DE MON CCEIIR. 

Nay, young braves will still lead on 
Guarding what their fathers won, 
Keep their stainless altars pure, 
From ambition's treacherous lure, 
Pray that Grod may shield the right 
Aime de mon Coeur ! 

But should victory crown thy brow. 
Humbly 'neath her chaplet bow, 
Put thou forth a friendly hand 
To the vanquished of our land ! 
Yield thee back the broken sword 
With its pristine sheen restored, 
Though it ruthlessly hath slain 
Sires and sons on battle plain — 
To the prodigal assure 
Pardon, if he thus adjure; 
God will thus avenge thy cause, 
Aime de mon Coeur. 



T H K 

MORAL STRKNGTH OF OUR COUNTRY'S CAUSE. 



Government is of God. Himself a King, and King 
of kings, when He commands that earthly kings should 
be honored, He means the Law of the State, in whatever 
legitimate form it may be embodied. God is love; peace 
is one of the ministers of that love, and, in such a world 
as this, the sword is another. Justice must march in 
even step with mercy. The welfare of man as urgently 
requires that wrongs should be set right by some "terror 
to evil-doers," as that there should be tranquil air and 
cheerful praise for them that do well. We find no 
habitable or tolerable dwelling-place anywhere without 
the solemn array of courts, penalties, magistrates and 
arms. Together, these constitute the venerable and 
divine character of Law; venerable, because she is from 
everlasting; divine, because her seat is the bosom of 
God. Her hands may be of iron, but her countenance is 
benignant, and her heart is tender. Providence has 
hedged her about from the beginning with sacred safe- 



THE MORAL STRENGTH OF OUR CAUSE. 333 

guards and immunities, turning all history into a record 
of her benefits, binding up all public prosperity and 
domestic comfort in her arms, and mating her "the 
gracious mother of our peace and joy." 

In the light of this comprehensive and profound truth, 
we are able to see the moral strength of our national 
cause: One of the grand compensations we are to reap 
for its vast sufferings, is a new realization of this majestic 
supremacy and divine sanctity of Law, curbing the con- 
ceit of our rampant and conceited individualism, exploding 
the philosophic fallacy of a "social compact," and putting 
an effectual contradiction on the current notion of so 
many victims of crude European democratic oracles, that 
it is competent to a majority of the people anywhere, 
if they happen to choose, to vote Government out of 
existence! "The people" cannot do this till they can 
vote one of God's designs out of existence 

First of all, our cause is the cause of Government, 
which God ordains and loves, against reckless and selfish 
insurrection, which he denounces and hates. With our 
adversary, it is not a case of the last and desperate resort 
of the right of revolution; for that exists only under 
actual and intolerable abuses or oppressions; whereas in 
this rebellion, even the grievances alleged are only pros- 
pective and contingent, on confession of its abettors. 
In the principles indirectly involved, ours is also the 



334 OUK COUNTRY. 

cause of liberty against bondage, honor against treachery, 
constitutional protection against usurpation, lawful ad- 
ministration against public fraud, and equal rights against 
feudalism and caste. Now, God loves liberty, honor, 
order, and brotherly equality among his children. In 
the distinction often drawn between offensive and defen- 
sive war, we have the further moral advantage of being 
on the defensive; actual aggressions being begun on the 
other side. 

In the second place, lending this confidence of right to 
the cause, the Christian view of the subject points out 
in what spirit, and by what principles, the war shall 
be carried on. If it is a righteous cause, it can be 
righteously prosecuted. Man can make war not only in 
the name of the Most High, but in the solemn and tender 
spirit of His religion. Anger, cruelty, personal revenge, 
and all the hateful brood of satanic passions, have no 
more necessary place in the camp and on the field, 
than they have on farms and in counting-houses In a 
conflict so sacred as ours, there can be no reason why 
regiments shall not be enrolled, batteries planted, cam- 
paigns planned, strategy conducted, battles fought, and 
blood poured out, with all the energy of the bravest 
soldiership, and with all the skill of the most masterly 
generalship, yet with every trace of wrath extinguished 
Indeed, I observe no britrhter sign in the horizon than 



THE MORAL STRENGTH OF OUR CAUSE. 335 

the intelligent testimony of one of the eminent statesmen 
of the country, after extensive travels through its great 
seats of population, that something like this is already 
true. He says: "I have nowhere found any feeling of 
exasperation against the people of the South, but in every 
point, a solemn determination to uphold the Government, 
at the same time with a sadness and a depth of tender- 
ness I will in vain endeavor to describe. Strong and 
brave men when speaking of the distractions which rend 
our country, have wept in my presence. This is not a 
war upon the people of the South, but a war undertaken 
for their defence and for their deliverance." I cannot 
see why men should not move to the defence of such a 
cause as ours, with all the intensest energies of muscle 
and will strung to the combat, yet with just as complete 
an absence of personal spite or ill-will, as in the judge 
who, under the august forms of law, sentences a single 
criminal to the scaffold, or as in the sheriff who executes 
the sentence. These civil magistrates discharge their 
duty, and fulfil their oath, as a high and awful act of 
Christian obligation. So it might be, and ought to 
be, with every soldier in every division of our army. 
We can conceive of his being quartered in a Christian 
camp, where not only temperance and purity and rever- 
ence keep the air clear, but where the voice of God's 
daily praise is heard, where an altar is erected in every 



336 OUR COUNTRY. 

tent, and a temple under every company's flag. We can 
conceive of his marching in the ranks to his terrible office, 
with judicial, with devout, nay, with almost sacramental 
solemnity. There is nothing in the mere taking of 
human life — the life of the body — that is opposite to the 
law of Christ. Many things are more sacred and more 
precious, as our daily use of life shows, than bodily blood 
and breath. We give these things away, and we may 
take them away, for right, for freedom, for honor, for 
government, for the people's good, for God's glory. 
Hence the possibility and the fact of Christian, nay, of 
saintly warriors. Terrible as the temptation is to arouse 
all the worst passions of our lower nature, yet, in another 
view, the legitimacy of the cause makes every soldier a 
magistrate, investing him with something of the august 
responsibility of an impartial and impersonal application 
of the law. It is familiar that not only in the wars of 
God's chosen people in Judea, but in the wars of the 
English Commonwealth, and of the American Revolution, 
and more lately in the East, the most determined and 
most effectual fighting was done by the godliest and 
gentlest men, — men who went straight from their closet 
to the charge, and from their knees to the storming and 
siege of strongholds, under the fiery hail, in trenches of 
spouting blood, and dying, when they fell, with their 
Bibles on their breasts, and the peaceful name of Jesus 



THE MORAL STRENGTH OF OUR CAUSE. 337 

on their lips. This is Christian war. The sublimity of 
martyrdom and tlie glory of the cross surround it. 

Again, and more specially, the kind of conflict that 
Christ allows is one that repudiate, with scrupulous 
integrity, every unrighteous practice, — everything that 
the commands of Grod disallow. National retribution is 
just as sure and searching as the judgment of single souls. 
If a war is waged in a spirit of national selfishness and 
under wicked rulers, with corrupt contracts and bargains, 
with fraudulent enlistments, by reckless and blaspheming 
generals, no matter what temporary achievements over- 
whelming numbers may display, the result will be a 
national disgrace. The general cause may be just; yet 
no single insult to the Almighty can escape its curse. If 
a battle is deliberately planned and needlessly offered, for 
some trifling occasion of audacity or levity, on the day 
that God has hallowed and commanded all men to keep, 
it will not be strange if there is a panic before night; for 
if the guilty parties are not afraid of the enemy, they 
should be affrighted at Heaven and tremble for them- 
selves. If officers turn their head-quarters into a stye of 
sensuality, what wonder if when they go out against the 
foe one way, they flee before him seven ways ? If military 
messages between the forces are worded in terms of pro- 
fane vulgarity, why should not God above, who is jealous 
for His honor, take away the staff of bread or the stay of 
29 



338 OUR COUNTEY. 

water, and finish the engagement with a surrender? If 
our military practices sink back to the brutalities of a 
barbarous age; if all the amenities, courtesies, and kind- 
nesses of civilized warfare are disowned ; if sentinels on 
outposts are shot down with no possible influence on the 
result, in miserable sport or savage malice, the Lord of 
pity, who healed the ear of a servant that was causelessly 
struck, will be offended. Every such breach of virtue 
contravenes our prayers. Our petitions ought to be, in 
Christ's name, first of all, that every department and 
operation of so grand a struggle may be purged of 
impiety and be conformed to the irreproachable standard 
of our religion. 

Again, light is given us, in this line of thought, to see 
how it is, — and to see that it is just as faith ought to 
have expected, — that the high and mighty Ruler of the 
universe, who is the only giver of all victory, carefully 
keeps the issues in His own hands. His are the sick- 
nesses that waste, the drought that famishes, the tempests 
that wreck, the winds that hinder or speed fleets, and the 
rains that swell rivers, and the frosts that chill in one place 
and destroy miasma in another; and He means to make it 
manifest, doubtless, before the eyes of mankind, that by 
Him nations are ruled, squadrons turned, and wars made 
to cease, lumbers, armaments, drills, revenues, experi- 
ence, courage, strategy, — these are the instruments of 



THE MORAL STRENGTH OF OUR CAUSE. 339 

war. But the Almighty must accept and bless them 
before they prosper. He blows upon them with His 
indignation, and they are like the chaff of the summer 
threshing-floor which the wind driveth away. May He 
grant that as defeat and loss school us into energy and 
order and humble dependence upon Him, so every suc- 
cess may lift hearty anthems to His praise ! 

Finally, the whole truth before us clears the way for 
our minds to combine a vigorous support of the govern- 
ment God has set over us, — so rich in blessings and so 
fraught with hope to humanity throughout the world, — 
with affectionate fidelity to Christ, and with a spirit of 
perfect charity to all men, — even to the men whom we 
ask God to discomfit, and whom we are giving treasure 
and tears and the noble blood of brothers, husbands, 
and sons, to overthrow. Even this high attainment of 
Christian magnanimity is possible; and we are never to 
be satisfied till we reach it. Our foes may be our fellow- 
countrymen, they may be "of our own household;" yet, 
in a conflict so terrible as this, and with a stake only 
second to the ark of God, we are to stand courageously 
against them, and turn them back from the Capital of 
our freedom. We learn, though not believing with the 
Arabian Prophet that the sword is the key to Heaven, 
that loyalty to our country, and love to its blind and mad 
assailants, are consistent with one another. And while 



340 OUR COUNTRY. 

the sentiment of liberty and sympathy for the oppressed 
animate our arms, can we not, in the name of the merci- 
ful Lord, take some anxious thought for those doers of 
the wrong, who, when their doomed institution shall 
fall, may stand in all the peril and dismay of a servile 
revenge? We are sure that except we are willing to 
take up this cross also, with all its pains and con- 
sequences, regardless of interest or power, — stagnant 
markets or suspended commerce, private affliction or 
distresses ten times deeper than any we have yet borne, — 
we are no more worthy to be Christ's disciples than to be 
citizens of the Republic. 

We may well remember our encouragements at the 
mercy-seat. We remember how the life and liberty of 
our mother-country, threatened once by the "Invincible 
Armada," which bore to sea beneath its sails all the 
strength of the great empire of Philip II., was so clearly 
delivered by the prayers of fiiithful souls, that the British 
admiral exclaimed, "It is the finger of God," and even 
Queen Elizabeth bowed her pride to acknowledge, "God 
breathed on them, and they were scattered." 

Remember the Providence that averted ruin, by foreign 
and civil hostility together, from the little Republic of 
Holland, when the splendid armies of Louis XIV., 
headed by generals whose very names were like victories, 
moved against her; when the connivance of Charles II. , 



THE MORAL STRENGTH OF OUR CAUSE. 341 

in a duplicity not unlike that which stripped us three 
years ago of half our defences, kept up an appearance 
of friendship till the English fleet filled the channt'l, and 
then joined the invader, when the resources of the gov- 
ernment had been loosened and spent in a long period of 
security, and the commander-in-chief was a youth of but 
twenty-two years; when, to help the parallel, several of 
the United Dutch States seceded, — with treason in camp 
and council and border cities. Then, writes one of the 
historians, Holland waged her war against these odds 
ivitJi daily meetings for 2^raijer; her believing and ador- 
ing people fled to the temples of God; it was for their 
nationality and for tbeir faith they were to fight; and as 
they prayed, their heroic hearts grew stouter and stouter. 
A tide of remarkable ebb kept the French and English 
from landing, and then a tempest swept them seaward; 
the patriots, who added vigor and ammunition and gold 
to their prayers, prepared their force, and pursued, and 
routed them; infatuation was sent into the French king's 
brain; and while one of the brave Dutch commanders 
was saying, in his great faith, "The weaker we are, the 
surer am I of victory, for my confidence is not in man, 
but in Almighty God," lo! the Almighty God scattered 
his enemies, and, with less than a year's conflict, the 
Republic was safe. 
29* 



342 OUR COUNTRY. 

Remember, once more, an example of answered prayer 
for a people, nearer home, and in the history of our 
own Fathers. In the year 1746, the people of Boston, 
alarmed at the prospect of an armed French invasion 
upon their colony by sea, in forty vessels from Nova 
Scotia, kept a day of fasting and prayer. When they 
were assembled in their places of worship, after a morn- 
ing which had been "perfectly clear and calm," a sudden 
gust of wind arose, and shook the buildingd. That storm 
wrecked the fleet on the coast of the eastern provinces ; 
the principal commander, the Duke d'Anville, took his 
own life in mortification; thousands perished; and the 
expedition failed forever. "It shall come to pass," saith 
thy God, "that while they are yet speaking, I will hear." 

RighteoNis as our cause is, we have not been a righteous 
people. Official bribery, corrupt legislation, partisan 
politics, a besotted lust for promotion, luxury, and dis- 
play, irreverence towards God's Sabbaths and sanctuaries, 
and a headstrong self-will, — these are but parts of the 
black cloud of our transgressions provoking the just 
judgments that are abroad in the land. Would that the 
supplications of the prostrate nation might be as the 
prayer of one repenting heart, that the God of our 
fathers would return, and spare and forgive us; make 
men to be of one mind in this house of their inheritance; 



THE MORAL STRENGTH OF OUR CAUSE. 343 

and yet cause it to be Emmanuers land, loyal to the 
Great King, with the law and liberty and love of Christ 
blessing its borders, with one faith, and one baptism, 
and with the glory of the Lord both risen and abiding 
upon it! 



THE PRESIDENT'S HYMK 

For tue National Thanksgiving, Nov. 26, 1863. 



Give thanks, all ye people, give thanks to the Lord, 
Alleluias of freedom, let Freemen accord; 
Let the East, and the West, North and South roll along, 
Sea, mountain and prairie, One thanksgiving song. 

Chorus after each verse. 
Give thanks, all ye people, give thanks to the Lord, 
Alleluias of freedom, let Freemen accord. 

For the sunshine and rainfall, enriching again 
Our acres in myriads, with treasures of grain; 
For the Earth still unloading her store-house of wealth, 
For the Skies beaming vigor, the Winds breathing health: 

Give thanks — 

For the Nation's wide table, o'erflowingly spread. 
Where the many have feasted, and all men have been fed. 
With no bondage, their God-given rights to enthral, 
But Liberty guarded by Justice for all : 

Give thanks — 



THE president's HYMN. 345 

In the realms of the Anvil, the Loom, and the Plow, 
Whose the mines and the fields, to Him gratefully vow : 
His the flocks and the herds, sing ye hill-sides and vales ; 
On His Ocean domains chant His Name with the gales. 

Give thanks — 

Of commerce and traffic, ye princes, behold 
Your riches from Him Whose the silver and gold : 
Happier children of Labor, true lords of the soil, 
Bless the Grreat Master- Workman, who blesseth your toil. 

Give thanks — 

Brave men of our forces, Life-guard of our coasts, 
To your Leader be loyal, Jehovah of Hosts : 
Glow the Stripes and the Stars aye with victory bright, 
Reflecting his glory, — He crowneth the Right. 

Give thanks — 

Nor shall ye through our borders, ye stricken of heart. 
Only wailing your dead, in the joy have no part : 
God's solace be yours, and for you there shall flow 
All that honor and sympathy's gifts can bestow. 

Give thanks — 

The Domes of Messiah — there, ye worshipping throngs, 
Solemn litanies mingle with jubilant songs; 



346 OUR COUNTRY. 

The Ruler of Nations beseeching to spare, 
And our Empire still keep the Elect of His care. 

Give thanks — 

Our guilt and transgressions remember no more; 
Peace, Lord ! Righteous Peace, of Thy gift we implore; 
And the Banner of Union, restored by Thy Hand, 
Be the Banner of Freedom o'er All in the Land. 

And the Banner of Union, etc. 

Give thanks — 



UNIVERSAL PEACE. 



An attempt will here be made to shew, that, by the 
course of human events, as overruled by Divine Provi- 
dence, the time approaches, when wars shall cease; the 
nations forming a Permanent Judicial Tribunal, to which 
by mutual consent, their disputes may be referred. 

It is not material to the proof of the proposition, that 
at the age of thirty-three, (1820,) I drew out a sketch of 
the idea, now to be further elaborated; but it is, that 
formjng this idea at that mature age, (not then daring 
however, to advance it, except as a work of imagination,) 
my mind has, through all the subsequent changes of a 
busy life, retained the same view. 

It first came into my mind from reflections on the 
American Constitution and its operations, similar to those 
De Tocqueville has since so well drawn out and expressed, 
dwelling as he has done, on the perfection of the system 
as developed in New England, particularly in the smallest 
division as uniting to compose the families making the 



348 OUR COUNTRY. 

towns — the towns the counties — and the counties the 
states, etc. I found less perfection as I advanced in the 
series, and the last link that binds all which is perfect to 
the throne of God, was wholly wanting.* 

Thus the subject presented itself to my mind in 1820. 

Happy Columbia ! blest and honored land ! 

Wise were thy sires, who first thy charter planned; 

But wiser far and mightier is that mind, 

Who made them means to work what He designed. 

Mark how sublime extends the wise device, 

Of his dread order's ever-growing rise. 

First the small family, and then the town, * 

The county, state, then all the states in one ! 

But here we pause; — thus far hath time expressed. 

Of God's vast plan, and must mature the rest. 

* If the American statesmen will examine this subject for the 
purpose of finding theoretical perfection, as a guide to practical 
wisdom, will he not find that our system as it is now working, 
shews a defect ? That our country having become so large, and 
our States so numerous, our plan of Union makes too great and 
sudden a spread, in embracing at once in one General Govern- 
ment, forty-two States and Territories, extending over half a 
world? Would it not be more perfect, if an intermediate organi- 
zation were made, and our immense empire of America were 
arranged into divisions, each taking in a number of the States, 



UNIVERSAL PEACE. 349 

At the time of composmg this, I was engaged in 
writing with Mr. Woodbridge, our works on Ancient and 
Modern Geography, and as one of the grounds of my 
belief in the approach (whether near or far) of Universal 
Peace, was the prophetic assertions of Holy Writ, that 
there should come such a time, and that Jerusalem should 
be the chosen place, I was careful to examine maps and 
globes in reference to the question. 

In rectifying the terrestrial globe to find a place for the 
zenith, which shall leave above the rational horizon, the 
greatest quantity of arable land, and the greatest number 
of inhabitants, that place will be found in, or near, the 
region of the Holy Land, other geographical considerations 
appear in the following extract : 

less or more, sa}^ from five to seven or eight, according to circum- 
stances — so that there might be about five or six of these larger 
divisions which we might call nations, (or any other name that 
suited us better, ) they together forming as now the one Grand 
Empire ; — as might be represented by the root-system of a tree 
which has first the fibres, uniting to form the smallest roots, then 
these composing those of the next grade, and so on, the roots 
gradually increasing in size as they diminish in number, till 
finally, a few large ones converge, and growing together they unite 
unto one great body; and thus present their whole strength and 
vitality to resist all foreign influences? 

30 



350 OUR COUNTRY. 

What then remains, to work war's final fall ? 

One mighty council, formed to watch o'er all. 

Of this vast rule, say where shall be the seat, 

Where on earth's face, earth's delegates shall meet? 

Is there a spot, o'er all her lands contain, 

Where best can gather the congressive train ? 

Where lengthened seas far inland mildly stray, 

Nor stormy capes obstruct the needful way ? 

Or is a spot, o'er all her precincts wide, 

That Grod hath honored more than all beside ? 

Now, Zion's prophet — now we think on thee ! 

And Zion's hill that chosen spot must be. 

Commodious most, honored o'er all beside. 

Where God, the Saviour lived, and where He died ! 

And if, in 1820, it could be believed that a World's 
Council of Peace might assemble at Jerusalem, how mucli 
more credible is it in 1860 ? For, in no period of the 
world's history, has man so rapidly advanced his empire 
over physical nature, and in no circumstance of his con- 
dition has he more changed and improved, than in the 
increased rapidity of locomotion for his body by steam, 
unless it be in that of his mind, by electricity. In 1820, 
steam had been applied to locomotion by water on the 
rivers, yet ocean steamers did not exist till more than ten 
years afterwards, and the time of steam travelling by land, 



UNIVERSAL PEACE. 351 

occurred soon after. Now it is no new thing for a 
world's convention to assemble Delegates to a Permanent 
Peace Council — to reside for a term of years at Jerusa- 
lem, they might easily be accompanied by their families; 
there those who had business with, might easily approach 
them, and the publications which would of course emanate 
from so high a court, would require but a short time to 
reach the Capitols of the Nations. Or if greater speed 
were necessary than steam could furnish, to carry forth 
some important decision, the wonderful invention of the 
telegraph is at hand. 

Let us now examine this great subject in the lights of 
History. The will of the great Powers, such as England, 
France, America and Russia, might immediately inaugu- 
rate a Council of Peace, with a view to its permanency; 
and they, being the largest and most prosperous, would 
have the greatest interest in retaining their boundaries, 
and keeping things without, peacefully, in statu quo. 

How infinitely would it have been to the advantage of 
America, had such a Council existed six years ago, to 
whom the South would have brought their complaints 
against our Government, before proceeding to war. 

Besides this general reason, has not each of the great 
powers its own complications, calculated to make the 
present, a time especially favorable to the consideration of 
Universal Peace? 



352 OUR COUNTRY. 

The policy of Russia, has heretofore looked to Universal 
Empire, and hence has been aggressive; but Russia has 
now on her hands a war to make her wish for Universal 
Peace — the war with Poland — that ancient nationality, 
pitied by the world — sung by its best poets — and beloved 
by Lafayette and others, of its purest patriots. The 
present Czar of Russia found Poland as it is, and hence is 
not to be blamed for its wrongs; and we fully believe he 
would now be glad to be honorably rid of this living 
trouble. 

Russia's latest war before this, was rather to gain a 
port on the Mediteranean, than to extend its dominions. 
And why were England and France unwilling that 
Russia — so great a portion of Europe, should have what 
is so needful to her commerce? It was not that they were 
unwilling that the Russians should be prosperous, but, 
such had been the aggressive disposition of their rulers, 
that France and England dared not allow them to become 
too powerful; and thus jealousy of power became as 
usual among nations, the cause of war; and while this 
exists, nations will injure and despoil, instead of seeking 
to aid each other. Were there a Peace Tribunal, first 
agreed on by the nations, and then chosen from their 
wisest and best men — those among them who most com- 
mand the world's confidence, then as this new Tribunal 
began to do its work, it would be more and more depended 



UNIVERSAL PEACE. 353 

on as an arbiter; and it would soon be seen by all, how 
much better were its decisions, than is the unreasoning — 
the mad arbitrament of war ; — and then would this 
jealousy of power subside. Russia might then agree 
with her neighbors, and peaceably gain a port on the 
Mediterranean ; and England and France at the same 
time acquire a profitable customer. Then the American 
Republic would no longer be feared, (because the Peace 
Council would not allow her to be aggressive,) then she 
would no longer be hated, and practiced against to divide 
her. Germany and Denmark might then have a dignified 
tribunal to appeal to, — whose judgment of right it would 
be honorable to accept. 

The first operation of a rightly established Council of 
Peace being to take away national jealousy; each Grovern- 
ment no longer fearing others, would have nothing to do 
but to manage its own interior concerns; and it might 
turn all its energies to improving the condition of its own 
people; and each nation might peacefully move on its 
own way. The English would no longer fear that a mad 
democracy might, at some future day, invade them to 
destroy the social order of their society, their grand 
permanent estates, and the beauty which these give to 
their garden-island — but while each nation is experiment- 
ing in peace, each might be examining the systems of the 
other, and making mutual improvements. 
30* 



354 OUR COUNTRY. 

There is one sovereiga in Europe who has lately shown 
himself the earnest advocate of Peace — Louis Napoleon. 
He has lately made strenuous efforts to assemble a Peace 
Congress; and why did he fail? For the same reason 
that England would have failed to get a Peace Congress 
to London, or Russia to St. Petersburg — because by 
inviting, on his own authority, the nations to come to 
Paris, there to hold a Congress, he assumes to make 
Paris, Europe's metropolis; and rival nations will not 
allow it. Much less would they allow any rival capital to 
become the seat of a permanent Tribunal of Peace. But 
would Louis Napoleon consent ''to cast away ambition" — 
and perhaps he already has — and give himself to the 
service of God in the cause of man. he might make for 
himself a far higher place in the temjjle of humanity and 
of true fame than that filled by his uncle. For it would 
be as much greater, to be the means of inaugurating a 
Code of Peace Laws for the nations, than it was to pro- 
duce the Code Napoleonic as the earth's surface is greater 
that that of France. But the seat of this council cannot 
be Paris, it must be Jerusalem. And here suppose for a 
moment that Louis Napoleon were really thinking whether 
or not he could carry out this plan, why, lie would ask, 
must Jerusalem be the place ? A believer in the Scrip- 
ture would scarcely ask that, but God sometimes employs 
men who are not believers to carry out his predicted 



UNIVERSAL PEACE. 355 

designs. Those who believe not the truth of Christianity 
must yet believe its existence; and they must believe the 
consequent veneration of its votaries for the Holy Places. 
And Louis Napoleon knows, that this reverence is no 
inoperative superstition, by what occurred so lately at 
the opening scenes of the Crimean War. And let him 
now regard with attention that great standing historic 
miracle; — the greatest of all time; — a nation without a 
place! The Jews stand waiting. Hasten to do the 
Lord's work, in preparing for them their promised abode. 
When the Gentile nations gather to Jerusalem to make it 
the seat of Universal Peace, then must they aid the Jews 
to return. 

But Turkey owns the Holy Land. Yes, but to whom 
does Turkey owe her past and present existence ? When 
the "man was sick," nigh unto death, England and 
France saved him. And now if these powers should see 
the expediency of the Jews possessing the Holy Land, 
and that it would be for a purpose greatly advantageous 
to Turkey, and that ample money might be paid for it, 
would there be any formidable opposition from that needy 
and feeble nation ? But how is this ample money to be 
obtained ? Now is a time^ when the wealthiest family in 
the world — the Rothschilds — are Jews. And could there 
be any doubt that — Great Britain consenting — if Louis 
Napoleon should conduct a negotiation with the Roths- 



356 OUR COUNTRY. 

childs and they thus be assured, that there was to be a 
movement among the nations by which, as is foretold 
in their Scriptures, as well as in our own, the reign of 
Universal Peace was about to be established at Jerusa- 
lem, can there be any doubt that these wealthy Jews 
would joyfully set on foot the purchase of the Holy 
Land — the making of a rail road from Jerusalem to 
the coast, and doing whatever else was necessary; so 
that by the time the nations had chosen the honored 
members, and prepared the code of international laws 
under which they were to act, the Council of Peace 
would find Jerusalem ready for their reception. 

Shout, Zion's friends! break forth, earth, and sing! 
The Lord again doth his redeemed bring ! 
Awake, virgin daughter! quickly wake! 
Thy neck unbind, thy dusty vestments shake ! 
Arise and shine, for lo, thy light is come ! 
And GATHERING NATIONS foudly bear thee home ! 
Nor war, nor waste, thy borders more shall see, 
And the whole earth thy happy borders be ! 

Troy, N. Y , Feb. 23, 1864. 



SYMPATHY 



My country weepeth sore 

Above her fallen brave, 
By field, by grove, by stream tbey lie, 
Their faces toward their native sky, 

And scarcely find a grave. 

She listeneth to the wail 

That from a thousand homes 
By town, by tower, by prairie bright, 
At dawn, at noon, at dead of night. 
In wild discordance comes. 

She at the threshold grieves, 

Where stretched on pallets lie 
Beneath the surgeon's scalpel keen 
The stalwart form, the noble mien, 
Convuls'd with agony. 



358 OUR COUNTRY. 

She bendeth o'er the wave 

Where sank the patriot train, 
Whose volleying guns a farewell sent 
As downward with their ship they went 
To the unfathom'd main. 

She listeneth as the Earth 
Surcharg'd with bloody rain, 

Her many cherish'd sons demands; 

Her bold, her beautiful, whose hands 
Made rich her harvest- wain. 

She kneeleth at the Throne 

Of mercy, day and night ; 
She looketh o'er the war-cloud dim, 
With an unwavering trust in Him 
Who doeth all things right. 



HISTORICAL SKETCH. 



THE ANCIENT WORLD. 
Our Country in the Past! What see we there, 
On History's page, as guided by its light, 
We seek her midst the dynasties of old ? 
Chaldea with her astronomic lore. 
Mother of nations, long since passed away; 
Egypt and Babylon, Israel's martial hosts, 
The Persian rule — republics of old Greece; 
And Rome with her long Carthagenian wars, 
Had come, and gone, e'er Bethlehem's star had yet 
Guided the Magi in their earnest search, 
To find the infant Saviour, the Divine. 
The Christian era brought a change on earth — 
Th' upheaving of the nations marked the time 
Of the grand advent — soon the British isles. 
And continental Europe act a part, 
Transplanting science from her ancient seats; 
And art soon followed whither science led. 



3G0 OUR COUNTRY. 

DISCOVERY OF AMERICA. 
But ages dark of superstitions lore, 
And legends false, corrupting the true faith, 
Gloomed sadlj o'er the horoscope of man. 
Yet in that day of intellect enchain'd, 
Columbus' spirit with its giant grasp, 
Seized on the far off continent which lay 
Beyond th' uutravell'd ocean's distant bounds; 
Collecting facts, and then subjecting these 
To analytic reasoning profound. 
Conviction came, and followed action then. 
Yet much Columbus suffered in the cause 
Which moved his noble spirit, till at length 
A woman's hand bestowed the needful aid ; 
Oh Isabella I may thy honored name, 
E'er serve as talisman to nerve the hearts 
Of those who would, — but feebly dare not do 
The noble deeds prompted by motive high. 
Her jewels rare, Queen Isabella gave 
To gain the means to send Columbus forth 
Upon that voyage, mysterious and strange, 
With nought to guide him on his trackless way 
But a slight needle, as it chanced to point. 
"Chanced," did we say? No, in Columbus' hand 
It was th'unerring finger from above. 



HISTORICAL SKETCH. 361 

Directing where the indicated land, 

Which science promised, should by him be found. 

Yet small the sacrifice to Castile's queen 

Of costly jewels, which her lofty mind 

Had little cared for; — but for years she bore 

The sneers of courtiers, and the sharp rebukes 

Of those who sought to subjugate her soul. 

But God sustained her, that she faltered not — 

The new world was discovered, after years 

Of suffering to him who ventured forth, 

Guided by science and by trust in God. 

And how was he repaid ? let the sad tale 

Of what Columbus bore from envious foes 

Speak to the Martyrs in a righteous cause, 

And point the moral, "look not for reward 

To earthly favor; raise thy thoughts above." 

THE SPANIARDS IX AMERICA. 
"We pause not to portray the sad events 
Which followed in the train of Spanish rule, 
When Montezuma's halls were crimsoned o'er 
With blood of princes who with trusting hearts 
Had welcomed to their land the treacherous guests, 
"Conquests in Mexico" by Cortez' bands 
Are chronicled by one, who never more 
Shall labor for his Country's literature, 
31 



362 OUR COUNTRY. 

J^ut ever honored be our Prescott's name. 

We bid adieu to Spanish hunt for gold 

In Southern regions, following in the bark 

Which rushes onward, to more Northern skies 

To find another continent, beyond 

That narrow isthmus, where the gulf looks out 

On neighboring oceans, circling round the globe. 

NORTH AMERICA FOUND. 
From Spain th' infectious passion wide had spread 
Of greed for gold — and mariners went forth 
To seek for mines in undiscovered coasts. 
Sea-loving Portuguese their sails unfurl, 
And French and English navies are afloat — 
"Ho, westward ho," the cry from gallant ships, 
And History's page, now teeming with events. 
Tells of the great discoveries which reward 
The navigators for their weary toils. 
The beautiful Acadia* is found, 
And Prima Yiitar by the French first seen, 
While England's subjects plant their country's flag 
On rock-bound Plymouth's weather-beaten coast. 
Yet farther South, beneath more genial skies, 
Potomac's broad expanse and fertile shores 

* Nova Scotia, t Newfoundland. 



HISTORICAL SKETCH. 363 

Allured adventurers to make their home. 
True, savage owners of the lands there were. 
But sooth to say their rights had little weight. 
The curious natives wondered as they gazed 
On their strange visitors; — and said, "well-come," 
The value of their lands was nought to them. 
And glad they were to barter these away 
For worthless trinkets, beads and trifling toys, 
And counting them as good equivalents 
For their vast hunting grounds — a nation's site, 
Which was to be, hereafter: — so they deemed, 
Those early pilgrims to the Western wilds. 

NORTH AND SOUTH VIRGINIA. 
In honor of their Virgin Queen was named 
The region vast — from Prima Vista's shores 
To Carolina's swamps, Virginia, all — 
Called North and South, but all Virginia. 
It is not in our purpose now to dwell 
Upon the fortunes of the settlements, 
The wars with Indians — and the contest dire 
With France, for England's sake, when Quebec fell. 
And Washington went forth, a rustic youth. 
To battle for our haughty mother's cause. 
The Red Man's fate must ever darkly shade 
Our Country's records — arguments to prove 



364 OUR COUNTRY. 

That might makes right, may blind, but not convince. 

There is some show of reason in the plea 

That the full time had come to wrest this soil 

From savage rule — amid the deserts wild. 

To plant the rose, and Christian temples build, 

Where heathen orgies from the wigwam rude 

In hideous sounds arose upon the air — 

The fiat of th' Almighty we may trace 

In man's misdoing, working out His will. 

Fast grew the infant Colonies — "Virginia's weed," 

When known in Europe, brought them good returns. 

And when the lonely planters wanted wives 

They offered willingly a goodly price. 

For such commodity — and then there came 

A living cargo, duly shipped, in change 

For hogsheads of tobacco — So we read, 

Though this we do not care to dwell upon; — 

But let us all confess with humbled pride. 

That in our ancestry there may be flaws. 

Proud England's aristocracy may blush 

For blazoned scutcheons — often stained with blood 

Defaced with treachery or violence. 

Or issuing from plebian origin. 



HISTORICAL SKETCH. 365 

BRITISH COLONIES — THE SLAVE SHIP. 

Great Britain saw her colonies increase; — 
E'en nobles sometimes came to grace the land, 
Though graceless in their lives perchance they were 
But see, on ocean's wave a far off ship ! 
A black spot in the distance she appears, 
Yes, dark indeed ! for freighted is the bark 
With slaves from Afric's coast, to sell for gold. 
And soon the slave-ships multiply amain, 
Filling the country with a fatal curse. 
In vain remonstrance from the New- World went 
Against this traffic foul — 't'was heeded not, 
For foreign traders found it made them rich; 
Our mother country saw the trade was good 
For profit to herself, and liked it well. 
The Northern colonies had, too, their share 
In slavery; but when they found, in truth, 
The negro was not fitted to their use, 
That children of the Sun could never thrive 
In their cold climate; — then they saw, how bad 
Was slavery — and, magnanimous, resolved 
To rid themselves of such a crying sin; 
They gave it up to wicked planters, who, 
'Neath fervid suns and alligator swamps, 
By sweat of slaves might daro t'enrich their soil. 
31* 



366 OUR COUNTRY. 

Some said 't'was merciful to iVfric's sons 

To bring them from their wicked heathen homes ;- 

So Cortez and his ruffians argued, when 

They seized upon the natives of Peru, 

And taught them Christian mercy on the rack. 

Man ever finds an argument for what 

He wishes, most himself deceiving, when 

Seeking to disguise his acts with reasons 

Brawn from his interest, until he ends 

In fancying he is serving God in deeds 

Which terminate, as they begun — in self. 

Oh ! God of Mercy, who shall dare assume 

That he is righteous ! And our country too, 

Was born and nursed in sin. 

Yet would we not 
Dwell gloomily upon the past — for sure 
Noble examples of a virtue rare 
Illume the annals of our early days. 

THE AMERICAN REVOLUTION. 
So England's colonies waxed rich and strong, 
And gave great revenues unto her king : 
But often avarice, in her eager grasp, 
Destroys the source of riches; — thus it was 
That by oppressive acts the cord was snapped. 
Which bound the offspring to the parent's side. 



HISTORICAL SKETCH. 367 

And so the colonies in time^ threw off 

Their subjugation, and held up their heads, 

Snuffing the air of freedom, looking round 

Upon an empire vast — and this, their own. 

''Our Oountri/^^ then it was — bought by the blood 

Of patriot sires, freed from foreign rule, 

And given us "to keep," as Eden was 

To our first parents in their innocence. 

*'One empire, undivided, it must be," 

Was nature's voice, as looking far abroad 

The close connection of the whole was seen; 

Interlacino; rivers connectino; all 

In one grand system, bound by oceans round. 

Thus Washington beheld it; and so he 

Of Monticello taught, with others wise, 

As fearless they, their venerated names 

With a firm hand to Freedom's chart subscribed ; 

The chart of Independence, and no less 

A bond for Union, than in after days, 

The Constitution, made to fasten firm 

The compact under which the colonies 

Fought for their freedom from a foreign yoke. 

This compact made, they threw it in the face 

Of royalty, nerved as they were to meet 

Th' events which were before them, if perchance 

A failure should befal their bold attempt. 



368 OUR COUNTRY. 

"In Union is our strength," the patriots said. 
All hearts responded, and the work was done. 

Our Country in the Past I how swells the heart 

At thought of days when, side by side were seen 

Heroes from North and South, united firm 

In the great struggle which should make them free 

From foreign powers. Oh, little thought they then 

Of sons degenerate, who would ever crouch 

To France and England, begging them to come 

Against their brethren; spurning under foot 

The legacy bought with their fathers' blood. 

More precious far than monarchs ever left 

To royal heirs, — a country great and free. 

OUR COUJSTRY AFTER THE REVOLUTION. 
We gladly linger here awhile, to view 
''Unum et ^j7?(;7'6»s," the clustering States, 
Many yet one, guarding the central point, 
Round which in their due orbits, all revolved. 
Like sun amid the planets; thus was seen 
The central power giving both light and heat 
To all around — encircling in its span 
E'en the most distant of revolving States. 
In Union lay our strength — our fathers taught. 
And from our infiiut days, we learned to hold 



HISTORICAL SKETCH. 369 

In reverential awe, this Union dear. 
The nation's strength required a firmer bond 
Than first was made, when colonies became 
States sov'reign, yet subordinate to rule 
Of central government — Years pass'd away 
E'er yet our grand republic had acquired 
The needed force to execute its laws — 
For cautiously the Sovereign States did yield 
The powers demanded at the central head 
To keep all steady, guard 'gainst foreign foes, 
To levy taxes, save from treason dark — 
The currency to regulate, and to send 
Ambassadors abroad with the full power. 
Treaties to make; and to enforce them too 
At home, where central law should be obeyed. 
But years had passed before the seal was set 
To the great compact, firmly binding States 
T' yield up interests sectional, that good 
Might come to all, and harmony prevail. 

THE OPINIONS OF FOREIGNERS RESPECTING 
SLAVERY IN AMERICA. 

Now Europe wondering, saw the countless throngs 
Of travellers from America, who seemed 
T' abound in wealth, and liberal in all 
''Inquiring and requiring,''^ "moved by steam," 



370 OUR COUNTRY. 

As sometimes the phlegmatic German said, 
When wondering to see how fast they went. 
What traveller from our land may not have seen 
Th' averted look, and ill-concealed disgust, 
When ought was said of slavery in our land? 
But brethren, sworn to stand-by at all needs, 
We falter out excuse as best we can — 
"Entailed upon us in our infant state. 
By Europeans in their love of gain. 
Slaves are among us — not by fault of ours; 
We treat them kindly, mean to set them free 
When the fit time shall come for such a change." 
But we lik'd not the questioning on this — 
It was the plague spot which we fear'd would work 
Destruction for our Country — well we knew 
How jealous England watch'd to foster strife 
T'wixt South and North; how zealously she strove 
To circulate suspicion through our land; 
How sweetly smiled upon the holders forth 
On the dark sin of slavery, as if that 
Were the sole evil which survived the Fall, 
And all were saints but those who in their homes 
Made homes for negroes, bore their idle ways 
And gladly saw them happy and content. 
Thus have we often seen the life as led 
In Southern regions — yet too true it is, 



HISTORICAL SKETCH. 371 

The world is full of evils — each relation hath 
Its dangers of abuse, and well we know 
That slavery, its hideous aspects hath — 
Pandora's box of evils, it hath proved 
Our Country's desolation and, its scourge. 

THE AMERICAN REPUBLIC. 
We see a vast domain extend beyond 
The Atlantic shores whither the sultry sun 
Reflects its beams from Kocky Mountain pass, 
To where Pacific's wave from India's coast 
Rolls on in savage grandeur; half the globe 
Encompassing within its circle vast. 
What empire of the world can we compare 
With our republic in its wide extent ! 
Spreading through parallels of various climes, 
Where isothermal lines from every grade 
Of regions, temperate, tropical or cold, 
Yield products of all lands, and thus secure 
Our independence of the outer world ! 
Thought flew on lightning wings from farthest lands; 
Space was annihilate by power of steam; 
Flourish'd mechanic arts; while learnings fanes 
As seen on all sides, well bespoke the care 
For education which pervaded all. 
From days colonial the custom came 



372 OUR COUNTRY. 

To send the Southern youth to Northern schools; 

Not but that colleges of ancient worth, 

Existed nearer home; but many thought 

It well that Southern intellect should gain 

From Northern perseverance, greater strength; 

And that the youth would doubtless better learn 

Habits of industry and self-control, 

When from obsequious menials separate. 

There was a prestige in the Southern name; 

Each student boy at Harvard or at Yale — 

From Dixie's land, was counted a young prince, 

His home supposed a palace, and his wealth 

Unbounded; — many a fair Northern lass 

Indulged in visions of romantic bliss 

When her young lover should return to claim 

The hand so fondly plighted to a "so/^/i" — 

But college loves full well she learned to know 

Were only meant t' enliven college days; — 

But we descend to notice trivial things; 

We only wish to give a picture true 

Of life, as late existed in the land, 

The prestige of the South in Northern schools, 

And elsewhere too, — as ever might be found. 

Within our country's Capitol, where throned 

In power, the Southern statesmen held their court. 



HISTORICAL SKETCH. 373 

ADDITION OF NEW STATES TO THE UNION. 
Some thirteen colonies in early days, 
Had formed the nucleus of our aovernment; 
But soon from territories wild and far, 
Came trooping in to join the circle bright, 
New States, who gravely took their place among 
The elders of the nation, holding all 
The rights and dignity of sovereign States. 
Some had been bought by purchase, liVral made, 
Of France and Spain— while Texas' wilds were gain'd 
By hard fought battles with her neighbor rude. 
Who yielded on compulsion, what in vain 
Our country claimed as justly due to her. 

THE THIRTEEN ORIGINAL STATES DELIBERATE 
UPON A NEW CONSTITUTION. 
Oar Constitution we have said was formed 
By long deliberation of great men 
Who came together to compare their views ; 
Each State then having name, was called upon 
To give decision on the question vast. 
'♦Shall we together stand— our Country save 
By our united strength, and firm accord. 
To hold our rightful place against the world; 
Or, disintegrate, shall we be a prey 
32 



374 OUR COUNTRY. 

To foreign foemen, or domestic strife? 

Some statesmen feared to delegate the power 

To the head government, which might the States 

Reduce, from sovereign to subordinate, — 

But all at length perceived that only thus 

Could stand America, a nation great — 

So thoughtful maidens by affection urged , 

To merge their future in another's weal, 

Oft linger long, unwilling to resign 

Their sovereign independence, for the state 

Of partial subjugation — 'tis question which 

T'answer with due wisdom, must be resolved 

By arguments derived from wise experience 

Of what life is, what are its social claims — 

Is standing singly, better than the strength 

Which comes of Union? When the choice is made, 

Why then abide by promise; — not free again 

To choose, retract, or break the sacred bond. 

Thus did our venerated Fathers choose 

To join the Union in the greater strength 

The Constitution to the Country gave; 

Not for a term of years — their single life — 

But for all time — in perpetuity, 

The compact ran; — as well might men impeach 

The tenure of the deeds by which they hold 

The lands their fathers left them, as to break 



HISTORICAL SKETCH. 375 

The sacred compact of the several States 
Our Fathers swore should ever be maintain'd. 

SECESSION AND REBELLION. 
It is but simply we attempt to urge 
Our duties to our Country — yet 'tis meet 
That all should know, and knowing seek to do. . 
That term ''Secessionr what may it imply? 
I ask of you fair friends, who boldly flaunt 
The word, as if 'twere something newly found 
T' express some virtue, hitherto unknown. 
Hast thou reflected on its import well ? 
If language hath a sense, and words are ought 
But idle breath, this hissing serpent-sound 
Conveys an evil meaning — broken faith, 
Destruction to the principle of lifie, 
The very instrument which Satan wields 
To gain man to his wicked purposes. 
"Secede from God," the serpent lisp'd to Eve, 
"Act for yourself," and you shall theti be wise. 
"Leave your paternal roof," the tempter says 
To simple maiden trembling on the brink 
Of the dark precipice, which before her yawns, — 
To leave, forsake, secede, all are hut terms 
Convertible — though in the modern sense. 



376 OUR COUNTRY. 

Secession means rebellion to the laws. 

And deadly efforts to destroy the land 

So dear unto our Fathers, who had deem'd 

Their sons would cherish with their heart's best blood. 

And why lay hand profane upon the ark 

Of safety to the Country, th' united weal 

Of all the States; would'st stab the parent's heart. 

Stop the life-pulse which throbs within her veins ? 

Then dead were all the members, all depend 

Upon one common life — then guard it well. 

For such a parricidal act, what cause? 

Was't fear of intermeddling with their rights 

That caused the insurrection of the South? 

Fear is not fact; far better 'twould have been 

To wait for overt act, than thus to rush 

To swift destruction from the mighty power 

Of an indignant nation, firm resolved 

To guard its rights, whate'er the cost might be. 

LOOKENG BACK. 

How stood our Country when this war began? 
The old world kingdoms saw our empire vast, 
Attracting to its shores from every land 
Those learn'd in science, great in intellect; 
The mechanician and the artisan. 
Gardeners and farmers, with domestics, all 



HISTORICAL SKETCH. S^T 

Pound here a sphere for study, or for work, 

A place to exercise their various powers. 

No longer Europeans proudly asked 

Who ever read our books, for publishers 

In London sought to fill their shelves 

With works American — and to our shores 

Their authors came, here finding, as they said, 

Appreciative minds, more liberal men 

To compensate for labors of the brain. 

Our trade and commerce filled the world with wealth, 

And proudly floated in the distant marts 

The "Stars and Stripes," emblem of strength and 

power. 
Thus did our Country flourish, far beyond 
Whate'er the prophet seers of other days 
Had dared imagine — for to them was hid 
The great discoveries of the later times; 
The Californian mines, the power of steam, 
Electric influences, these changing all 
The phases of man's life by magic art. 
Peace dwelt within our borders, save that some 
With words against their neighbors waged a war; 
But in republics, words are freely changed, 
They are not blows, nor should be met with such — 
We were a happy people, following on, 
As pleasure, interest, or instruction led. 

32* 



378 OUR COUNTRY. 

We read of foreigu wars, and pitied those 
Whose lot had fallen in despotic lands. 

AN EDUCATIONAL HOME. 

But come with us, up yonder steep ascent, 

Where crowning the hill's crest a mansion standf 

Massive its granite walls, and pillars firm 

Support its Grecian portico. Around, 

Hills rise o'er hills, while like a silvery thread, 

Patapsco's waters add a varying charm. 

That granite temple was erected there 

By private liberality and zeal. 

For better education of the young. 

Let us approach the consecrated fane, 

And view its inmates fair, who represent 

The different parts of our republic vast — 

For here assembled, in one common home, 

Are daughters of the North and of the South; 

From snowy climes to where the fervid sun 

Kindles a deeper glow upon the cheek; 

From the sun -rising to the verge extreme 

Of Osage Mountains and Pacific's shore. 

The great North-western region here has met 

With old New England, parent of her sons, 

And golden California too has brought 

Her distant daughters to obtain for them 



HISTORICAL SKETCH. 379 

Treasures of intellect above all price. 

As sisters, here all meet, all taught to love 

The common country which protects their homes. 

Hush, 'tis the hour of prayer ! and reverent kneel 

Those fair young maidens; then the organ swells 

And gush of solemn music fills the air. 

We see them next at recreation hour, 

Wandering in pairs, or grouped as taste inclines, 

'Mid perfumed paths, or seated 'neath the bowers 

Where clematis with honeysuckle twines. 

We do not find that, as companions, they. 

Have chosen those who near them dwell at home, 

But Southern Carolina loves full well 

Her Massachusetts sister — thinking not 

That enemies their brothers e'er will be — 

They speak of future years, when school days o'er, 

How happy they shall be, and sure to meet 

Their dear companions in some beauteous spot, 

Niagara, it may be, or perchance 

At Newport, Philadelphia, or New York. 

"My brother rare, you know he'll soon be free 

From College rules, (he graduates at Yale,) 

You sure must see him — and as you have taste. 

And he has eyes, why — what will happen then? 

iVoMs verrons — in our Southern home there's room 

For a fair Northern sister — pleasant thought !'* 



380 



OUR COUNTRY. 



THE CONTRAST. 
The vision fades— and sundered far and wide 
Are those fair girls; — widows and orphans now 
Glide o'er the canvas, clad in weeds of woe, 
Their homes deserted ; wanderers o'er a land 
Where hostile armies marching to and fro, 
Threaten still further desolation in their train. 
Young mothers, watching helpless infancy, 
Deprived of comforts, such as in other days, 
Were not from humblest menial e'er withheld. 
Oh God ! console the afflicted ones, and grant 
Compassion to the victors; and though late, 
Repentance to the erring who have caused 
This suffering in our land— such our prayer; 
Though feeble, 'lis sincere, and let none say 
That pity is misplaced — alas, that e'er 
In woman's breast should fell revenge be nursed, 
Or love of country mixed with bitter hate 
Of erring brethren, suffering for their crimes. 

WEST POINT IN 1860. 
One picture more we trace in peaceful times, 
While treason yet lay slumb'ring in the hearts 
Of those who dared mature the fiendish plan 
A nation to disintegrate, the horrors brave 



HISTORICAL SKETCH. 381 

Of armed rebellion to the Country's laws. 

The summer sun was cooled on Hudson's shore 

By breezes from the lofty highlands near, 

And West-Point, with its military school, 

Ensconced amidst the smiling verdant hills 

Call'd on the traveller to view awhile, 

The country's training school for future men, 

The nurse of her defenders. Fit it was 

That here the patriotic heart should swell 

With pride for what our country was, and what 

It promis'd in the coming time to be; 

First 'mong the nations, strong and well secured 

From all attacks of intermeddling powers. 

Not yet four rapid years have passed away 

Since such our meditations as we scanned 

The youthful soldiers, who, by vet'rans trained, 

Shewed military ardor, ready for war; 

Their country's proudest boast and sure defence. 

There was a grand assemblage at West-Point, 

For hither in the execution prompt, 

Obedient to the call of government, 

Had come great men, whose honored names were 

heard 
With deep respect — "That's the War-Minister" — 
•*JefiF Davis' not a very handsome man. 
But then his talents are to all well known," 



382 OUR COUNTRY. 

And when his Excellence, soon after this, 

Honor'd our poor New England by a tour. 

Visiting our war-ships, taking notes of all, 

Surveying Forts, and scanning their weak points, 

The foolish Yankees said — "How kind of him 

To dine with us— How faithful, too, he is 

To learn where is our weakness, that he may 

The better know to remedy what's wrong," 

But to the "Military School "—others there 

Sent by the War Department to report 

How prospered all things at that famous post. 

Demand our notice — Yonder is Beauregard, 

Le preux chevaliei-, who bends him low. 

And whispers nonsense in a lady's ear ; 

There martial Hardee in the mazy dance, 

Proves th' omnipotence of beauty's sway 

That thus can tame the lion in his den — 

(For Hardee then commanded at this post ;) 

Others there were amid the brilliant throng 

Whose names have since been famed in rebel hosts. 

Yes, in that spot, lovely in nature's charms 

Treason had entered faithless Arnold's soul 

And bade him sell his country for reward. 

But God be praised, that 'mong those traitors were 

Men of stern courage, loyal and sincere, 

Who yet had never dreamed a time would come 



HISTORICAL SKETCH. dOo 

When they should meet such brethren in arms 
Against the fostering country, whom all owed 
For education, place, and maintenance. 

OUR COUNTRY IN THE PRESENT. 
Our Country in the Past 
Was grand and glorious ! and chiefly they, 
Our Southern brethren drank of the full cup 
Of national prosperity — but the gods. 
As said the Ancients in their heathen lore, 
"First make men mad, then they destroy themselves." 
But let us rather say, as Christians should, 
That God for sin hath justly chastened us. 
The present is obscure, dimmed with the tears 
Which fall from mourner's eyes throughout the land. 
The mass of human suffering, who may tell ! 
Ask those who bent on Mercy's errand go 
To battle-fields to seek the dying there, 
The living mid the dead, what sights they see, 
What words they hear! Oh God, can brethren dare 
To mar Thine image thus — their hands imbrue 
In brother's blood, by mad ambition urged ! 
But Mercy's Angel speeds her onward flight, 
Bearing relief and consolation glad 
To fainting, wounded, dying fellow men; 
No question then of Southern sympathy, 



384 OUR COUNTRY. 

Of rebel warfare, but to all alike 

Gives comfort, aid and kindly word of cheer: 

Not foreign accents as in wars abroad 

Speak the combatants, but one Mother tongue, 

Sons of the self-same nation, sworn alike 

To her allegiance — moulded in one form 

By education's hand, from the self-same books 

Their duties taught, as citizens and men. 

God help the suffering, wheresoe'er they be, 

Whether they mourn for losses of the past, 

Or fearful, tremble for the future stroke 

Impending o'er the lov'd ones who afar 

Meet the stern mandates of relentless war. 

Oar Country in the Present! would we trace 

Rebellion's record, let us turn our eyes 

To old Virginia's desolated homes. 

To fair Kentucky's border, reeking still 

With human gore — or Vicksburg's ruined mart. 

New Orleans shrouded in her sable weeds ; 

To Gettysburg, where fell the serried hosts 

Of our own country's sons, led on to fight 

Against each other — bosom friends opposed — 

Sad Chickamauga, Chattanooga, too, 

Have witnessed horrors not to be described 

Where late were happy homes of peaceful men. 



HISTORICAL SKETCH 



385 



THE FUTURE. 
And is this all ! Is yet the re'd cup full ? 
What mean these hostile armie* in the field, 
Waiting fair spring's return upon the earth ? 
Is this a signal to begin the strife 
When God renews His bounties, and nature starts 
To renovated life beneath His hand ? 
Oh may His word go forth that stays the sword, 
And cries to the destroying fiend ♦ 'enough." 
And oh ye leaders in rebellion's van, 
Can ye not see th' inevitable fate 
Which must await the men who dared to brave 
Their country's vengeance, by their mad attempt? 
Then hasten far away— let not your blood 
Be on your Country— in far distant lands 
Live to repent you of the parricide 
You would have wrought, had not your plans been 

foiled. 
What plea can white-robed charity invent 
To lessen the dark stain upon your names? 
No! yours the damning sin which once in Heaven 
Rebellion caused ; the wish to reign supreme, 
Not satisfied with highest honors given; 
So Lucifer, son of the morning, fell, 
And never more could he that place regain; 
33 



386 OUR COUNTRY. 

And now with seers of old, mine eager eve 
Strains to behold the unknown hidden paths 
Which lie before ns. 

There is light beyond — 
And dove-like peace with gentle wing descends 
See, as she comes the hideous bird of death 
Flaps his dark plumage, shrieking as he flies 
From fields whereon he looked for future prey. 

Brethren, united as in former days, 
Consult together for the common weal: 
Chastened in spirit, more forbearing they, 
Loving God better for their punishment, — 
Columbia's Genius, smiling, looks abroad. 
And cries, exultant, "All, at last, is safe." 



APPENDIX 



UNITED STATES CHRISTIAN COMMISSION. 

The Christian Commission is one of the most active and useful 
agencies our present national crisis has developed. Its design is 
purely benevolent. It is that of relieving suflferings and other 
necessities occasioned by the casualties of the war. These suffer- 
ings and necessities appear in the camps, on board the vessels, 
and in the hospitals of the army and navy, and most of all in the 
terrific exhibition of the battle fields. They relate to both the 
temporal and spiritual requirements of the soldiers of the army 
and the marines of the navy ; the ofiicers in command, the men 
of the ranks ; the disabled in the tents of the camp and in the 
wards of the hospital. The mission is that of love and mercy. 
It follows the good Samaritan to the spot where the sufferer lies, 
and without inquiring who he is, and how he was hurt, proceeds 
to the binding up of his wounds, and the use of the oil and the 
wine that are necessary for his relief and recovery. 

First Movement for the Relief of the Sick and Disabled. 

The first movement in the organization of an association for the 
purpose of ministering to the temporal and spiritual wants of the 
soldiers and sailors of the army and navy, was made in Baltimore 
City early in May, 1861. Before the idea of the camp and the 
hospital was fully disclosed, the necessities of the army upon its 
march, and the navy on board the war vessel, were realized. It 
was the supply of the Bible and the tract, and the devotional 
book to the man in health and upon the march and the voyage 



388 APPENDIX. 

that was at first suggested. But this humane consideration was 
soon succeeded bj the call from the camp, and the war vessel, and 
the hospital for the comforts and consolations of religion. There 
were but few chaplains for the camps, and none for the vessels and 
hospitals that were first ordered. The wards of the National Hos- 
pital on Camden Street, Baltimore, were well filled with the sick, 
many of whom had died before there was any official provision for 
the ministrations of religion to the sufferers. A number of the 
clergy of the city and of the members of the newly organized Re- 
lief Association, volunteered for the service, and for several months 
gave such attention as could be afforded to the sick, the dying, 
and the dead. So irregular was the service when it was first ad- 
ministered, that a number of the sick were neglected in their last 
hours, and the dead were buried without the ceremonies of reli- 
gion. Notwithstanding this condition, complaint was made by 
surgeons of hospitals that the clergy and others visiting the wards 
were frequently in attendance in such numbers as to be hindrances 
to one another in the performance of their needed and desired of- 
fices. While the surgeons were complaining and desiring the dis- 
continuance of such irregular visitations, intelligence of the fact 
was communicated to the President of the United States, who im- 
mediately proceeded to the inauguration of a measure which sup- 
plied each hospital with a chaplain. This is certainly one of the 
best features of the hospital service, and the honor of its establish- 
ment is due to the President, by whose promptness and energy of 
action it was accomplished. 

The Baltimore Association was commenced by a few persons 
who agreed with each other to visit and minister to the sick and 
disabled of the hospitals and camps. While in the performance of 
their religious services, distributing Bibles, tracts and devotional 
books, and reading, conversing and praying vi^ith the subjects of 
their interest, they were induced to give attention to their tem- 
l)oral needs in the administration of such delicacies as are grateful 
to the sick and suffering. With his reading matter in one hand 
and his basket of conserves and nicely prepared nourishing food 
in the other, the member of the little band was frequently to be 
seen pursuing his way to the ward of his afflicted brother, to re- 



CHRISTIAN COMMISSION. 38l) 

lieve the sufferings of his physical system, while he cheered his 
spirits with his conversation and consoled him with the assurances 
of religion and his prayers for his present comfort and everlasting 
safety. 

Extension op the Field of Labor. 
As the war progressed the work of the Association increased. 
Camps and hospitals were multiplied in and around the city. Ad- 
ditional laborers were required to furnish the necessary ministra- 
tions to the continually increasing numbers of the afflicted. As 
the field of labor extended, the necessary laborers were providen- 
tially supplied. The number was soon increased to fifty and sub- 
sequently to seventy men, all of whom are now actively and in- 
dustriously engaged in the work. Monthly meetings for the recital 
and record of experience and reciprocal encouragement are held, 
and thus animated and animating each other with zeal in the good 
cause, the laborers of this department of the Lord's vineyard are 
doing the work of relief to thousands of their afflicted fellow men. 
Their services are rendered in assistance of the chaplains, by whose 
approval and under whose directions they appropriate their time 
and energies and means. 

Establishment of Hospitals. 
The first regular hospital was established in the buildings of the 
National Hotel, Camden Street, Baltimore. It was called the Na- 
tional Hospital, in consequence of its location. The first surgeon, 
who, when others were appointed, became chief, was afterwards 
chosen as the Surgeon General of the United States. It was under 
his auspices that the hospital system was inaugurated. So rapid 
was the progress of the war that in a few months it became ne- 
cessary to establish a number of hospitals in Baltimore, Wash- 
ington City, Alexandria and other places, in which large numbers 
of the sick and otherwise disabled, were placed. 

Christian Associations. 
The organization known as the Young Men's Christian Associa- 
tion, branches of which are established in every city of the United 

33* 



390 APPENDIX. 

States, manifested an early interest on behalf of the multitudes of 
their fellow citizens who volunteered their services to the cause of 
the Constitution and the Union. The subject of their privations 
and necessities was frequently and freely discussed, and methods 
of relief considered. Through this agency Bibles and other read- 
ing matter were supplied to the soldiers of the regiments as they 
passed through the several cities. In some instances the regiments 
were stopped for a time that refreshments consisting of biscuits, 
coffee &c., might be distributed among the men. It was in 
these ministrations that the sympathies of the soldiers on their way 
to the seat of war, and those of their friends that remained at 
home were intermingled, and the idea of mutual service developed. 
The defenders were followed in their expeditions of hardship and 
danger by the interests and prayers of the defended, and while 
away in pursuit of their patriotic enterprise, the defenders were 
remembered and cared for by their brethren, for the protection of 
whose liberties and laws and government, they had gone forth to 
imperil their lives. The consideration of such a topic under such 
circumstances could not be long continued without the resort to 
the most active and effective means possible for the protection and 
comfort of those on whose behalf it was suggested. 

Organization of the United States Christian Commission. 

The most active and energetic operator of all the branches of 
the Young Men's Christian Association, was Mr. George R. Stu- 
art, one of the most prominent and successful merchants of Phila- 
delphia. It was at his instance that the proposition was consid- 
ered of organizing a body of gentlemen for the management of a 
great benevolent and religious service for the army and navy. A 
convention composed of delegates from the several branches of 
the Young Men's Christian Association, was accordingly ordered. 
The convention assembled in the city of New York on the 16th of 
November, 1861. It was by this convention that the United 
States Christian Commission was established. Measures were 
adopted by which the work was to be introduced into all the loyal 
States. 

The object of the Commission thus formed, was stated to be that 
of ministering to the temporal and spiritual welfare of the oflBcers 



CHRISTIAN COMMISSION. 391 

and mea of the United States army and navy, in co-operation 
with chaplains and others. The gentlemen chosen as the United 
States Christian Commission were, Rev. Rollin H. Neal, D. D., of 
Boston; George H. Stuart, Esq., of Philadelphia ; Charles Demond, 
Esq., of Boston ; John P. Crozer, Esq., of Philadelphia; Rev. 
Bishop E. S. Janes, D. D., of New York ; Rev. M. S. R. P. Thomp- 
son, D. D., of Cincinnati ; Hon. Benj. F. Manniere, of New York; 
Col. Clinton B. Fisk, of St. Louis; Rev Benj. C. Cutter, D. D., 
of Brooklyn ; John V. Farwell, Esq., of Chicago ; Mitchell H. 
Muller, Esq., of Washington City, and John D. Hill, M. D., of 
Buflfalo. 

The members elect of the Commission met in Washington City 
a few days after their appointment, and selected George H. Stuart, 
Esq., President, Hon. B. F. Manniere, Secretary and Treasurer, 
and Messrs. Stuart, Janes, Cutter, Demond and Manniere the Ex- 
ecutive Committee. The offices of Secretary and Treasurer were 
afterwards separated, and the Rev A. M. Morrison was appointed 
Secretary. 

During the first year of the operations of the Commission, 
Messrs. Manniere and Cutter resigned their places and Jay Cooke, 
Esq., of Philadelphia, and the Rev. James Eells; D. D., of Brook- 
lyn, were chosen to supply the vacancies. Joseph Patterson, Esq., 
of Philadelphia, was chosen Treasurer in the place of Mr. Manniere, 
and Messrs. Crozer and Cooke were appointed on the Executive 
Committee to fill the places vacated by Messrs. Cutter and Man- 
niere. After a gratuitous service of several months Rev. A. Mor- 
rison resigned the office of Secretary, and the Rev. W. E. Board- 
man, of Philadelphia, was elected in his place. 

The residence of the President being in Philadelphia, the head 
quarters of the Commission were removed from New York to that 
city. 

The plan of operations prepared by the Commission was sub- 
mitted to the President of the United States, and to several mem- 
bers of his Cabinet, by whom it was heartily approved and recom- 
mended. Encouraging letters were given by the President, by 
Secretaries Cameron, Stanton and Welles, by Postmaster General 
Blair, by Generals McClellan and Hooker, by Admiral Foote, and 
by Surgeon General Hammond, and other distinguished gentlemen. 



392 APPENDIX. 



Design of the Commission. 

The design of the Christian Commission was declared on its 
organization to be the exciting of Christian Associations and the 
Christian men and women of the loyal States to action in the re- 
lief of the necessities of the officers and men of the army and navy. 
In carrying out this design the necessity was apparent of enlisting 
the services of volunteer laborers in the collection and distribution 
of money and hospital stores, with which to supply whatever ne- 
cessities might be developed. This service appears as an extension 
of that contemplated by the Government in furnishing attendance 
and supplies to the inmates of the hospitals. Chaplains, surgeons 
and other attendants upon the hospitals were required to perform 
certain specified duties in ministering to the spiritual and temporal 
relief of their patients. Large assistance was soon rendered ne- 
cessary in the supply of reading matter and delicacies to the sick 
and wounded. This assistance was furnished by the Christian 
Commission, and was gratefully received by the more humane 
among surgeons and others in charge of the camps and hospitals. 

Labors and Laborers of the Commission. 
The laborers of the Commission consist of such gentlemen and 
ladies as volunteer gratuitous services in places where they are de- 
sired. The services thus rendered consist in such ministrations as 
the sick and wounded of the camps and hospitals need. The 
most important part of the work is the preparation of the spirit for 
its departure from this to a future world. This work cannot al- 
ways be performed successfully unless assistance and relief are 
afforded to the physical needs of the patients. The pains of the 
body must be relieved or mitigated before the mind can be suffi- 
ciently composed to admit of instruction and counsel in relation 
to the spiritual wants of the sufferer. In the performance of this 
part of the labor, large quantities of such delicacies as are grateful 
to the suffering, as well as of Bibles, Testaments, tracts and de- 
votional books, have been provided and used. The delegates of 
the Commission, consisting of gentlemen of the various professions 
and pursuits, and ladies, all connected with the religious denomi- 



CHRISTIAN COMMISSION. 393 

nations, have rendered the needed services of waiting on the suf- 
ferers, and reading to them and counselling them in relation to 
their future safety. Chaplains and surgeons have acknowledged 
the services thus rendered with thankfulness, and the desire has 
been frequently expressed that they should be continued. 

Provisions by Government for the Comfort of the Disabled. 
Very extensive provisions have been made by the Government 
for the comfort of the sick and disabled of the army and navy. 
Chaplains and surgeons in large numbers are employed, and they 
are laboring efficiently in the accomplishment of the object contem- 
plated in their appointment. But it were impossible for the Gov- 
ernment to do all that is required in this department of its opera- 
tious. One Chaplain and one ^^urgeon are allowed to a regiment of 
a thousand men. For an army of men in health and engaged in ac- 
tive service upon the march and in the camp, this may be sufficient. 
Not so when the battle field appears, and when the epidemic at- 
tacks the camp. The need of attention in both the religious and 
medical departments is multiplied by these casualties. No esti- 
mate can be made of the necessities these casualties may produce 
until they actually occur. It is then that the emergency is met 
by the benevolent and gratuitous services of the Christian Commis- 
sion. Hundreds of devoted men and women are held in reserve, 
whose names are registered upon the books of the Commission, 
and who may be called out at any moment. When the necessity 
arises the call is made, and the response thus far has been very 
nearly equal to the demand. The laborers go forth with cheerful- 
ness to the fields, and in the camps and hospitals their Samaritan- 
like duties are performed. Thousands of the brave officers and 
men of the battle fields have acknowledged with gratitude the ser- 
vices these Christian men and women have administered, and 
many a valuable life has been saved through their agency. Thus 
it is seen that the reserve service which it were impossible for the 
Government to keep in continuous supply, is actually provided by 
the voluntary contributions of means and labors by the Chris- 
tian Commission. 



^^^ APPENDIX. 



Aid for the Commission Service. 
In aid of the service provided by the Christian Commission, a 
large number of the peoph of the loyal States have contributed 
Associations of gentlemen and ladies have been organized in 
cities and towns of several of the States, for the supply of delegates 
and means for the work. Many self-sacrificing philanthropists 
have left their business and families for stated periods to undergo 
the privations of the march and the encampment, and to risk the 
dangers of the battle for the purpose of ministering to the necessi- 
ties of those who have risked their all of property and their lives 
in the defence of their Government. In the performance of this 
labor there is generally no choice admitted in relation to locality 
or department of the army. The delegates are sent, as they are 
always willing to go, to such points as are most in need of their 
ministrations. Others have emptied their store-rooms of delicacies 
which they have provided for family use, and sent them in charo-e 
of the Commission to places of deposit from which they have bee°n 
taken by the hands of the delegates and appropriated through 
them to the use of the sufferers that needed them. 

Gratuitous Services of Delegates and others Engaged 
in the Work. 
The laborers of the Commission consists of the members of the 
central body, and the committees of the same, which are distributed 
throughout the loyal States, the delegates who are sent out by the 
central body, the agents in charge of the stations, and the local 
committees, the "Relief" and "Aid" Associations which are in 
operation in every city and in almost every town and country place 
of any note in the loyal States. Besides these there are clerks and 
packers connected with the several places of deposit, whose services 
are necessary in the receiving and unpacking and re-packing and 
distributing the stores in transit from the residences of the donors 
to the places of their destination in the camps and hospitals. 



CHRISTIAN COMMISSION. 395 



Members of the Central Body. 
The members of the Central Bod j, the head-quarters of which are 
in Philadelphia, the City in which the President resides, consist of 
George H. Stuart, Esq., President^ Philadelphia. Rev. Rollin 
H. Neale, D. D., Boston, Charles Demond, Esq., Boston. Rev. 
Bishop E. S. Janes, D. D., New York. Rev. James Eells, D. D., 
Brooklyn. John P. Crozier, Esq., Philadelphia. Jay Cooke, 
Esq., Philadelphia. Mitchell H. Mullen, Esq., Washington City. 
Rev. M. S. R. P. Thompson, D. D., Cincinnati. Col. Clinton B. 
Fisk, St. Louis. John V. Farwell, Esq., Chicago. John D. Hill, 
M. D., Buffalo. 

The Central Body is what its title imports, the centre of motion 
to the Commission. By it the various committees are appointed, 
and the entire work of the institution superintended. The Presi- 
dent, with such other members of the Central Body as can find it 
convenient to accompany him, visits all the districts and stations 
of the Commission, and the battle-fields, and counsels with the 
committees, delegates and agents in relation to their work. His 
encouraging presence and conversation have been of great benefit 
to his co-laborers in this great and greatly needed service. The 
other officers of the Commission, at the present time, are as 
follows: 

Joseph Patterson, Treasurer, Western Bank, Philadelphia, 
Rev. W. E. Boardman, Secretary, 13 Bank Street, " 
Executive Committee: — George H. Stuart, Chairman, Philadel- 
phia. Rev. Bishop E. S. Janes, D. D., New York. Charles 
Demond, Esq., Boston. John P. Crozier, Esq., Philadelphia. Jay 
Cooke, Esq., Philadelphia. 

Central Office. 
At the Central Ofifice, 13 Bank Street, Philadelphia, to the use 
of which Mr. Stuart has devoted the large room on the second 
floor of his warehouse, a very large proportion of the Commission 
stores are received. They are distributed from the Office to 
the offices of the committees and agents as they are needed. 
The use of Mr. Stuart's warehouse and the services of his clerks 



396 APPENDIX. 

and porters are contributed to the Commission free of charge. 
Nearly the whole time of the president is appropriated gratuitously 
to the labors of the institutuion to which he is most ardently 
devoted, and which he has so faithfully served. 

District Office of Maryland. 

The OfiRce of the Maryland District, which is located in Balti- 
more, is appropriated and used in the same manner as the Central 
Office in Philadelphia. Mr. G. S. GriflSth contributes the use of 
the second floor of his warehouse and the services of his clerks as 
they are required lo the use of the Commission. Nearly the whole 
of his own time is devoted to the work. 

At the office during and for some days after the battles of An- 
tietam and Gettysburg, from fifteen to thirty voluntary laborers, 
consisting of clergymen, lawyers teachers and tradesmen, might 
be seen as hard at work as day laborers and as if they were to be 
paid for their services. 

No Sabbath on the Day of Battle. 

As a period of rest there was no Sabbath to the Commission in 
Baltimore during and for days after the battles fought in Mary- 
land and on its borders and in Pennsylvania. As the call was made 
from the field of carnage the response was echoed. When the call 
came on the Sabbath the warehouse of the merchant was visited 
and the purchase efiected. The transmission to the office and 
packing were performed in as brief a period as possible when the 
service of the rail road company was brought into requisition. 
In each department the call was most heartily met, and ere the 
Sabbath closed the goods purchased and packed in the morning 
were in the evening ready for use in the wards of the hospitals. 

The labor thus performed was appropriated in the spirit of the 
best of all teachers, who has told us that the Sabbath was made 
for man, and that it is right that we should do good on that day. 
It is not to be doubted that the blessing of Heaven was admitted 
upon those labors of faith and love and mercy. 

Districts and Committees op the Commission. 
For the purpose of facilitating the great work of the Commis- 
sion the loyal 



CHRISTIAN COMMISSION. 397 

mittees have been appointed to labor in them, in the provision and 
distribution of hospital stores and reading matter. The duties of 
the Committees of several of the States, distant from the seat of 
the war, is that of providing and forwarding the necessary 
supplies, and procuring the services of delegates. In other States, 
those which are in proximity with the battle-fields, the Committees 
distribute, as well as gather, the supplies. They visit the camps, 
hospitals and battle-fields, and counsel with delegates and agents 
in relation to the arrangement of their plans and pursuit of their 
labors. 

The States in which Committees are at work in the performance 
of their several services are Maine, Vermont, New Hampshire, 
Massachusetts, New York, Pennsylvania, Delaware and Maryland 
as one district. Kentucky, Tennessee, Illinois and the District of 
Columbia. In cities, towns and prominent country places there 
are Sub-Committees and Aid and Relief Associations, which are 
actively engaged in providing and forwarding stores to the 
Central and other offices. Through the agency of these bodies 
very large quantities of stores are in continual transmission, and 
the offices of the Commission are in their hourly receipt and use 
in the supply of the camps and hospitals. 

Ladies' Relief Associations. 
In connection with every hospital and with many of the camps 
there are Associations of ladies who operate in systematic arrange- 
ment in the preparation and application of the stores. These 
associations are divided into Committees of three, five, seven or 
more, according to the labor to be performed. One of the Com- 
mittees is in attendance each day. These ladies, with their own 
hands, minister to the patients in their charge. Under the direc- 
tion and advice of Surgeons, they prepare the supplies and convey 
them to the wards. They may be seen any and every day with 
their provisions of nice food and delicacies at the bedside of their 
patients, assisting them as their needs require in their use. In 
many instances, the wounded and those much weakened by sick- 
ness, are fed by them with spoons, and otherwise assisted in the 
effort to partake of the well provided meal. 

34 



398 APPENDIX. 

No measure of relief, nor labor is spared by those angels of 
mercy in their attendance upon the sick and wounded soldiers, 
and sailors. They assist the cooks in preparation of the meals of 
the patients and supply them with water and wine as they need 
them. They are frequently commissioned by the Surgeons to 
administer their prescriptions to the patients. Without the visits 
and attention of these good Christian women, how cheerless and 
desolate would the wards of the hospital be to the afflicted 
and suffering soldiers? In their persons and ministrations, the 
presence of the mother and sister are more than half realized, and 
many of the comforts of home experienced. The eye of many a 
dying soldier has lingered in its languidness upon the form of his 
kind attendant, and with the vision of his home, in his view, his 
spirit has passed from its cot in the hospital ward to its place in 
the invisible world. The blessings of multitudes who have passed 
away, and of multitudes more who have been assisted in their 
recovery from sickness and disability through the agency of these 
gentle ministers of Heaven's will, have been invoked on their 
behalf. 

Christian Associations. 

Although the Christian Commission originated in a Convention 
composed of Delegates from the Young Men's Christian Associa- 
tions, it is not conducted under their auspices, nor officially 
connected with them in any way. It is a distinct and independent 
organization. Great assistance however, in the provision of stores 
and reading matter, is rendered by the Young Men's Christian 
Associations. In some instances the rooms of those associations, 
are generally tendered, and used by the Commission, and the 
services of the Young Men are constantly applied in furtherance of 
its benevolent design. 

The Christian Association of Baltimore City, is auxiliary to the 
Commission, and all its labors are rendered in connection with it. 
This body is not in the organization known as the Young Men's 
Christian Association. It is a body composed of clergyman and 
others, who devote themselves to the work systematically under a 
constitution, and make monthly reports and statements at meetings 
regularly appointed for the purpose. 

By the members of this Association, and those of the Young 



CHRISTIAN COMMISSION. 399 

Men's Christian Associations, the ladies of the Relief Associations 
are frequently met at the bedside of the inmates of the hospitals, 
and in their joint labors and prayers, the subjects of their interest 
are revived and comforted. 

Outside Assistance, 

Outside of Christian Associations, and of any known organized 
bodies, a great interest on behalf of the Commission has been 
excited; and the public everywhere in the loyal States, has been 
aroused to action in the provision and transmission of stores and 
reading matter. Men and women in neighborhoods have banded 
together in small bodies, and gathered in, and prepared home 
delicacies for the needy objects of their consideration. With but 
little cost, and in the contribution of labor that was by no means 
oppressive, avast amount of relief has, in this way, been afforded. 

Under this head, may be mentioned the facilities and assistance 
afforded the Commission by Rail Road and Telegraph Companies. 
The number of miles of rail road travel that have been generally 
free to the use of the Commission in its transportation of delegates 
and stores, has been computed at twenty thousand; and nearly 
every Telegraph Company has given the use of its wires, free of 
charge, to the Commission. That there is patriotism in all the 
facilities and services thus appropriated, there can be no doubt. 
The service is more than patriotic ; it is really religious in its 
character, and as such, will be owned and recorded by our Great 
Father in Heaven. 

Transmission of Stores to More Distant Fields. 
From Fredericksburg, in Virginia; Louisville, in Kentucky, and 
Murfreesboro and Nashville, in Tennessee, dispatches were trans- 
mitted to the Central office in the times of their emergency. 
Immediately, that is within two hours, delegates and stores were 
in transit, and reached their destination long before they were 
expected. In one instance, in an hour and an half, a large supply 
of goods was purchased, packed, invoiced, and carted three- 
quarters of a mile to the rail road depot, and reached in time to 
be sent off in the lightning train. The one instance thus alluded 
to, is mentioned not as an isolated one, for there were many of simi- 



400 APPENDIX. 

lar character; but to show how sure is the success of a laborious 
and difficult enterprise, when willing hearts and hands are engaged 
in it, and the blessing of Heaven is invoked and granted upon it. 

Labors op the Commission. 
The labors of the Commission are not limited, as some persons 
have supposed, to the supply of clergymen and religious services 
and books for sick and dying men. This is indeed the most 
important and necessary part of the service. But the Committees 
and Delegates of the Institution are not so ignorant and inex- 
perienced as to suppose that the services of religion may be 
successfully performed in the view and on the behalf of mangled 
and suffering men, until their physical condition can be ameliorated 
and improved. No experienced Christian, unless it be in cases of 
extreme emergency, will ever attempt to impart religious instruc- 
tion and spiritual counsel to the sufferer who is writhing in the 
pains of a bruised and bleeding body without sympathising with 
him in his trial, and the eff'ort to relieve his bodily pain. The 
delegate of the Christian Commission bears with him to the battle- 
field, the camp, and ward of the hospital the means of his minis- 
trations to the afflicted body, as well as that of his care for the 
needy soul. And he applies both as he finds opportunity. The 
haversack he carries contains refreshment for the suffering body, 
which is administered under the counsel and direction of the 
Surgeon, and when cheered by its application the reading of 
religious books, the conversation on religious subjects and the 
religious services are added, generally at the request of the 
patient. 

Care op the Wounded. 

During and after battle, the wounded are removed to places of 
safety and delivered into the hands of such humane persons as 
may be near to receive them and minister to their necessities. 
The delegates of the Christian Commission are generally in at- 
tendance for the performance of this service. The provision of 
the hospital, the preparing of the wards, the removal of the 
patients, and the application of the assistance immediately re- 
quired, are services that must be immediately performed. With 
astonishing rapidity have the wounded been borne from the field 



CHRISTIAN COMMISSION. 401 

and placed under treatment by the delegates who have been in 
attendance, and prepared with every facility for the performance 
of the work. When in a place of safety, and refreshed and 
rendered comfortable, if such condition can be reached, the dele- 
gate begins his religious services, and continues thera at the desire 
and request of the patient. In cases of great emergency, when 
death seems to be near neither the patient nor the delegate is 
willing to delay the services of religion; they are then performed 
as speedily as possible. There is but little danger of mistake in 
the manner of proceeding in nearly all such cases. The condition 
of humanity indicates the service it needs. The will of the sufferer 
is expressed in accordance with nature's dictates. In the later 
moments of its connection with the body, the spirit generally 
intimates its desire. The concern of the dying man, when fully 
realized, is less in regard to his bodily comfort than his soul's 
safety; and the course of the attendant may be directed by the 
patient's will. The Delegates of the Commission have been 
generally successful in the management of the cases committed 
to their care, and thousands that have departed, with other 
thousands that are living, have expressed their most profound 
gratitude in the receipt of their ministrations. 

Preparation for the Service. 
The Delegates of the Christian Commission are gentlemen who 
volunteer for certain periods to engage in the service. They are 
generally clergymen and other religious persons, who have been 
in the habit of attending upon the sick and dying. The names 
of Corps of these are registered upon the books of the Commis- 
sion as they are kept by the Committees in charge of the several 
districts. When the emergency arises, but a moment's notice is 
necessary. The parties are in readiness, and hasten to the office 
where there are haversacks filled with such articles as are needed. 
Supplied with these, they generally proceed in the first train, and 
are soon at the field and at work. Boxes and trunks of stores are 
kept in readiness, and sent in the same trains with the delegates, 
so that the supplies and the laborers reach their destination at the 
same time. There never was a period of history, nor an occasion 

34* 



402 APPENDIX. 

of war ill which there were greater facilities for the necessary 
attendance upon the wounded of the battle-field. Nor was there 
ever a period nor an occasion in which the facilities afiforded were 
half as promptly and as effectually used. 

There must be distressing casualties when opposing armies meet 
each other for deadly conflict. In the meeting of such armies as 
are engaged in the present contest, the extent of the casualties is 
too great to be estimated. Notwithstanding this consideration, it 
may be safely asserted that but a small proportion of the suffering 
that could be reached has been left unrelieved. Delegates and 
stores have been on hand on almost every occasion in which they 
were needed, and labors and means have been most generously 
applied in its relief. 

Liberality op the Service. 
On all the occasions of battle, a greater or less number of the 
enemy has been left within our lines, and have been captured as 
prisoners. In clearing the battle-field of the wounded, these have 
shared our sympathies and care equally with the disabled of our 
own army. When the yet living form of the mangled and bleed- 
ing sufferer has been committed to the care of our delegates, the 
question has not been asked, is he a friend or an enemy. All 
have shared alike in the labors of the Commission, and there is 
now a large number of rebel ofiicers and men who are indebted 
for the preservation of their lives to our Commission. This has 
been acknowledged with gratitude by many who are fully con- 
scious of their obligations, and perfectly willing to admit it. 

The Battles and the Commission. 
It is not known that a single battle has taken place, near which 
and ready for their work, there were not the Delegates and Agents 
of the Commission. In many instances the Committee in charge 
of the districts have been present, and mingled their labors with 
those of the delegates in affording relief and comfort to the 
disabled. At Shiloh, the Delegates of the Commission were 
present with stores from Chicago, Illinois, having travelled over 
seven hundred miles to reach their destination. At Fredericks- 
burg, Antietam and Gettysburg, the Committee of Maryland were 



CHRISTIAN COMMISSION. 403 

present, and performed efficient service in the removal of the 
wounded and ministering to their necessities. . At Chancellorville, 
Fair Oaks, Chattanooga, and at all the battle-fields, the needed 
ministrations were in readiness and promptly applied. 

The Convalescent. 
In many of the camps and hospitals, tents and rooms are set 
apart for religious worship. In these the convalescent are assem- 
bled for religious services, and when not so occupied they are the 
resort of the men for reading and meditation and conversation. 
The religious service with the convalescents consists in reading the 
scriptures, singing, prayer and preaching. Prayer meetings and 
experience meetings are held with them, and in which they mingle 
with more or less interest according to their temperament and dis- 
position. It is a rule of the Commission to supply every soldier 
with a Testament, and much of the time of those who are able to 
leave their beds, is occupied in reading them. The Testaments and 
Bibles, when they can be provided, with devotional books, tracts, 
&c., are companions for the lonely hours that without them, must 
be spent by the patients in walking over the grounds, or in the 
listless and profitless expenditure of time in unoccupied thought, 
or in light and improper conversation and pursuits. 

Reading Matter. 
The reading matter distributed among the officers and soldiers 
of the army has been most gratefully received, and in most in- 
stances it has been used with great profit. It is as highly prized 
as the food of the mind and spirit as the usual hospital stores are 
esteemed as the food of the body. The soldier has carried the Tes- 
tament into the battle, and returned with it, rejoicing in his pres- 
ervation, or it has been found in his knapsack after his fall upon 
the field, with the evidences of its having been well used in the 
marks it has borne. Often has the wife's, and mother's, and sis- 
ter's heart been cheered in its sorrow over the loss of the loved one, 
by the pencil traces, and other marks that have appeared upon the 
Bible or the Testament, or devotional book or tract. In large 
quantities, this portion of the property of deceased soldiers has 
been transmitted to their families and friends. They are now 



404 APPENDIX. 

reserved as household treasures, bearing the record of the sacrifice 
to which they have submitted on behalf of their beloved country. 

Liberality op Bible and Tract Societies, and of 
Newspaper Publishers. 

The American Bible Society has contributed nearly fifty thou- 
sand dollars worth of Bibles and Testaments to the service of the 
Christian Commission. The satisfaction afforded in the certainty 
of knowledge that the copies of the Scriptures thus distributed have 
performed a service the value of which cannot be estimated, affords 
a full remuneration for this immense outlay. The same may be 
said, in its degree and grade, in regard to the circulation of tracts 
and newspapers. In immense numbers these agencies of relief and 
enlightenment have been contributed. Their service has followed 
in the wake of the spiritual enlightenment opened by the Scrip- 
tures, and it has appeared as an important ally in the spiritual 
training of the subjects of its operations. The seed sown cannot 
be lost. It must spring up in the various qualities of the soil into 
which it has been placed, and it must bring forth its fruits, some 
thirty, some sixty, and some an hundred fold. 

Future Benefit of the Commission's Services. 
It has been argued that at the close of the war, and in the dis- 
banding of the armies of the republic, there will be sent home to 
every city and town and village in the States, a band of men 
hardened in iniquity, and prepared for any sort of work of demor- 
alization and wickedness. Such may have been the result in other 
countries and on other occasions of war. But the indications are 
different in the present prospect. If there is a speciality in the 
providence of the Christian Commission, it presents itself in its 
connection with this very subject. If the work of the Commission 
be successful, the disbanding of the army will not scatter broad- 
cast over the land the corrupt and the vile. But it will scatter 
the morally and religiously enlightened and the morally and reli- 
giously disposed over all the face of our highly favored country. 
The distribution of more than five hundred thousand copies of the 
scriptures, nearly twenty-three million pages of tracts, and over 
three and a half millions of religious and other newspapers, must 



CHRISTIAN COMMISSION. 405 

be effective, by the blessing of God, in counteracting tlie influences 
of evil, and in converting to the cause and service of Christianity, a 
large proportion of those in relation to whose vileness and corres- 
ponding degradation many fears have been entertained. Converted 
to the cause of religion in the camps and hospitals of the army, the 
multitudes that may be discharged and sent to their homes by the 
disbanding of the army, may be the means of doing much good in 
their respective localities. Through the agency of the Christian 
Commission, God may thus vrork His purpose in bringing good 
out of evil, and in constraining even the verath of man to utter 
praises upon His name. In this consideration there is high en- 
couragement for the labors of the Christian Commission in its 
membership and committees and delegates and agents. Not only 
the hope of our country's safety, but that of its future character 
and stability is in the issue, and it should animate every heart 
with zeal in the cause, and engage every hand for labor in its ac- 
complishment. 

Statistics op the Christian Commission Service. 
The following tabular statement exhibits a view of the means 
and labors expended in the great cause of relieving the necessities 
of the soldiers and sailors of the army and navy of the United 

States. 

Bibles and Testaments distributed, 568,275 

Soldiers' and Sailors' Hymn Books, 502,556 

Magazines and Pamphlets. 155,145 

Books of various kinds, 1,410,061 

Pages of Tracts, 22,930,428 

Newspapers, &c., 3,616,250 

Delegates, Ministers, and others, sent to battle-fields, 

camps and hospitals, 1,563 

Value op Stores and Servicks. 

Cash, $398,399.58 

Stores, 527,979.07 

Bibles and Testaments, 46^749.20 

Rail Road facilities, 44,210.00 

Telegraph facilities, 9,390.00 

Services of Delegates, 93,863.00 

$1,120,590.85 



THE UXITED STATES SANITARY COMMISSION. 



The best chapter in the history of any war, is that which 
exhibits how its horrors have been mitigated, and unavoidable 
suflFerings relieved of their bitterest complexion. War is always, 
and necessarily, a great waster of human life. Its object is 
destruction — its aims, the infliction of suffering and death upon 
combatants — its purpose, to coerce by force, when reason fails to 
convince by persuasion. While the saddest feature of all is, that, 
like Saturn, it consumes its own children, outside even of the 
reach and influence of the enemy it has gone to combat. — 
Wherever it goes, a fatal imminence hovers over all its hosts, 
since, in carrying death unto others, they nurse the destroyer 
within themselves. Aside, therefore, from all moral speculation, 
it is a singular physical fact, that an army is always its own 
direst enemy; that the very gregariousness of a host constitutes 
its surest pre-disposition to destruction, unless science erect about 
it those safe-guards which shall prevent the incubation of all 
deadly agencies. Science being pre-vision, it follows that to her 
alone we can entrust the care of an army, in order to save it from 
that ingenerate consumption which, unheralded by trumpet or 
drum, daily mows its victims down with unrelenting and insa- 
tiable rapacity. This science, the best expression of a Christian 
and brotherly solicitude, is the science which is typified by the 
idea of a Sanitary Commission. 

Practically considered, however, the labors of this priesthood 
are not limited to pre-vision alone. But, and wherever the neces- 
sities of actual, as well as impending disease — sufi'ering, or want, 
exhibit themselves either in hospitals, or on battle-fields — among 
enemies or friends, there the hand of relief is raised — the aid 



SANITARY COMMISSION. 



407 



extended— the suffering mitigated -the anguish soothed. In thia 
wider and more philanthropic sense, the duties performed by such 
an organization are as ample as the urgencies themselves, and 
embrace every thing which can give aid and comfort to the sick 
and wounded of an army. To compass this, a multitude of 
efforts of every name and nature must be made, and in all direc- 
tions. The thousand items necessary to feed, clothe, lodge and 
tend the sick, which require varieties of workmen to supply them, 
and occasion diversities of occupation in communities, must be 
collected in special depots— the same articles being required in all 
with a difference only in their quantity. Foresight must always 
anticipate the wants which, simultaneously, and in all directions, 
ask to be supplied. All being equally beneficiaries, who wear the 
uniform of their country, none must be allowed to go unrelieved, 
for the claim of each is a sacred call upon the gratitude of the 
nation, not to be ignored. Lastly, transportation hither and 
yonder, at equal pace with a moving army— pushing on through 
obstacles of every kind to present the relief at the earliest possible 
moment- never to be out of material, and to be ready to supply 
all and everywhere upon a vast theatre of war— such are the daily 
necessities pressing upon a Sanitary Commission. 

When the present war broke out, and the uprising of a whole 
nation placed an army of gigantic proportions in the field, it was 
felt by those who had read and pondered the bloody lessons left 
by preceding wars, that something must be done outside of estab- 
lished official departments, to aid in maintaining the integrity of 
such a host. From a small force of some ten thousand men, a 
few months saw us with an army of five hundred thousand, while 
at the same time no adequate provision for the sick or wounded 
could be immediately made by the Government. Left to the slow 
course of official routine, and in the hands of men accustomed to 
deal only with small bodies of troops, the wants of these great 
legions of warriors must, for a long while, have remained un- 
answered. Suffering and increased mortality, discouragement 
and despondency, would have been the consequence— our armies 
would have melted down, like those of England at Walcheren, 
or the Allies in the Crimea; and at this time, instead of present- 



408 APPENDIX. 

ing to the world the rare spectacle of an army never yet deci- 
mated by an epidemic, we should in all probability, have had to 
mourn the fate of thousands who had died of preventible disease. 
It will be remembered that the British Sanitary Commission to 
the East was only organized after the war had already progressed 
for over ten months, and when the sufferings of the troops had 
reached to such a degree, and their mortality risen so fearfully, 
as to seriously compromise their operations.* 

Urged by these considerations, and the repeated lessons of past 
wars, a small number of gentlemen, at the very inception of our 
conflict, undertook to create a Sanitary Commission, which, as the 
representative of the intelligent interest, and sympathy of the 
people, with the army, should, in strict subordination to the rules 
of the War and Medical Departments, and as their assistant, 
endeavor to supplement those innumerable wants likely to arise 
in the course of their dealing with such hitherto untried masses. 
The spontaneous offers of assistance — the wealth of treasure prof- 
fered, and the universal desire expressed by all classes, in all com- 
munities, to take part in contributing towards the comfort of those 
whom the vicissitudes of war would soon cast as a burthen upon 
the Medical Department, revealed the necessity of organizing this 
magnificent outburst of patriotism, so as to render it both me- 
thodical as well as far-reaching in its benefactions. It was justly 
felt that, however kindly intentioned, the contributions of the 
people, whether in money or specific articles, in order best to fulfil] 
the designs of the donors, and to help the general progress of the 
war, must be brought under some system of distribution which 
should co-ordinate itself with the discipline necessary to the 
efficiency of an army. A contrary course, as experience has 
everywhere shown, invariably tends to defeat its own purposes, 
by both wasting contributions, as well as diminishing the salutary 
influence of military rule. Ill-advised philanthropy, acting upon 
impulse alone and without judgment, might, nay, often does, 

* According to Miss Nightingale, the mortality of the British Army during 
the first seven months of the Crimean War, was 60 per cent. That of our 
Army during the year 1862, was 50.4 |ter thousand. 



SANITARY COMMISSION. 401i 

defeat the object it most earnest!}' desires to accomplish, and in 
this way, good men, earnest Christians, zealous philanthropists, 
occasionallj lay themselves open to rebuke, not for the noble 
spirit they profess, but for the thoughtless manner in which, in 
the ardor of their zeal, they seek to practice their humanity. In 
ordinary times no stringent lines of conduct need be drawn around 
such benefactions, nor are they, but it is far different in dealing 
with an army, the men of which are subjected to rules necessarily 
applied to them in the aggregate, and found to be essential to 
their well-being and corporate efficiency. Here the power which 
commands them, must control them, and he who would come to 
their aid for any purpose must ai)proach them solely through that 
power. 

Impressed with the conviction that the only true course to 
follow with regard both to the army and the people, was one, 
in entire parallelism with, and subordination to, the War and 
Medical Departments, a representative committee most fortunately 
selected among these gentlemen,* on the 18th day of May, 1861, 
addressed a communication to Mr. Cameron, then Secretary of 
War, upon the subject that was engrossing the attention of the 
country : already Relief and Aid Societies for the sick and 
wounded soldiers were springing up in all directions, though 
without any definite apprehension of the sphere in which their 
efforts could be made most available to the army. Full of good 
intentions, yet not knowing precisely h(*w to turn them to the 
readiest use, the women of our country were taking the initiative 
in measures calculated to relieve suffering of every description, 
provided only they could reach it. Town, village, and ward 
committees were forming everywhere for similar purposes — money 
was lavishly bestowed — stores accumulated in profusion — personal 
services tendered by all classes, and still it remained an unsolved 
problem how this magnificent and multifarious philanthropy 

* Drs. Bellows, Van Bureii, Harris and Harsen, of New York, representing 
the Woman's Central Association of relief for the sick and wounded of the 
army— the Advisory Committee of the Boards of Physicians and Surgeons of 
the Hospitals of New York,— and the New York Medical Association for 
furnishing hospital supp'ies in aid of the Army. 

35 



410 APPENDIX. 

should be organized into an enduring system of contributions, 
and an economical one of distribution, so as to extend the greatest 
good to the greatest number. It was plain at the outset that the 
necessities for supplies of this kind would never cease during the 
continuance of the war, and therefore, that the work of contrib- 
uting must be divested of the character of a spasm of romance and 
brought within the purview of a stern, moral obligation. As the 
whole nation was interested in the health, comfort and success of 
the army, and stood ready to vindicate that interest by profusion 
of aid, so that aid to be most useful must be a feature constantly 
incorporated with the army — moving with it— attending to its 
wants, and acting as a supplementary department to the medical 
and quarter-master's. 

The communication to Mr. Cameron explained in brief the 
advantage of methodizing the spontaneous benevolence of the 
country, and aiding the War Department with such supplies as 
were not included in the regulations of the army. The language 
used expressed most clearly the cogent reasons upon which it was 
founded, and left nothing to be desired in point of force, elegance 
or perspicuity. Like everything emanating from its accomplished 
author, it carried with it a weight of logic and a thorough appre- 
ciation of circumstances, which were unanswerable then, and have 
been since so well verified, as to impart to them almost a prophetic 
similitude. The effect of this letter was to elicit a note from the 
Acting Surgeon General of the Army to the Secretary of War, 
advising the institution of a "Commission of Inquiry and Advice 
in respect of the Sanitary Interests of the United States Forces." 
Coinciding heartily with the views set forth in this communication, 
Mr. Cameron, accordingly, and with the sanction of the President, 
appointed the following gentlemen a Board of Sanitary Com- 
missioners, with power to add to their number, on the 13th day 
of June, 1861, viz: Rev. Henry W. Bellows, D. D.; Prof. A. D. 
Bache; Prof. Jeffries Wyman, M. D.; Prof. Wolcott Gibbs, M. D.; 
Wm. H.Van Buren, M.D.; Samuel G. Howe, M. D.; R. C. Wood, 
U. S. A.; G. W. Cullom, U. S. A.; A. E. Shiras, U. S. A. Such 
was the origin of the United States Sanitary Commission, which 



SANITARY COMMISSION. 411 

now numbers twenty-one executive members, and five hundred 
associates.* 

As soon as this organization by the Government, of the Com- 
mission, as an advisory and supplemental branch of the War 
Department was effected, its Executive Committee proceeded with- 
out delay to carry out such plans as would most effectually 
accomplish those great objects which it had in view. Chief among 
these, and foremost in necessity of execution was that of securing 
a thorough Sanitary Inspection of Camps, Posts, and Hospitals. 
To accomplish this very important and delicate task — a task in 
which more or less seeming interference with the established 
discipline of such places would be manifested, a number of Medical 
Inspectors were appointed, whose duty it was made to point out 
to commanding officers causes of insalubrity in their midst, 
which, as laymen practically unacquainted with the principles of 
Hygiene, they were but too often found wholly blind to the exist- 
ence of. And, as each inspection generally disclosed something 
that could be ameliorated — and as often the stronger fact, that 
this amelioration could not be secured through the regular official 
channels, so the Commission found itself constantly called upon to 
supplement the Hygienic wants of our troops. What these 
thousand wants, repeated daily and in different directions, were, 



* The following gentlemen now constitute the Sanitary Commission, viz :— 
H. W. Bellows, D. D., New York. A. D. Bache, LL. D. Washington, D. C. 
F. L. Olmsted. George T. Strong, Esq., New York. Ellsha Harris, M. D., 
New York. W. H. Van Buren, M. D., New York. G. W. Cullorn, U. S. A. 
A. E. Shiras, U. S. A. R. C. Wood, Assistant Surgeon Genera!, U. S. A. 
Wolcott Gibbs, M. D., New York. S. G Howe, M. D., Boston, Mass. C. K. 
Agnew, M. D., New York. J. S. Newberry, M. D., Cleveland, Ohio. Rt. 
Rev. T. M Clarke, Providence, R. I. Hon. R. W. Burnett, Cincinnati, Ohio. 
Hon. Mark Skinner, Chicago, III. Hon. Joseph Holt, Washington, D. C. 
Horace Binney, Jr., Philadelphia, Penn. Rev. J. H. Heywood, Louisville, Ky. 
J. Huntington Wolcott, Boston, Mass. Prof. Fairman Rogers, Philadelphia. 
Penn. 

Officers:— H. W. Bellows, D. D. President. A. D. Bachc, LL. D., Vice- 
President. George T. Strong, Treasurer. J. Foster Jenkins, M. D., General 
Secretary. J. S. Newberry, M. D , Associate Secretary. J. H. Douglas, M.D , 
Associate Secretary. F. N. Knapp, Associate Secretary. 



412 APPENDIX. 

it would require too much space to enumerate. They embraced 
almost everything relating to Diet, Clothing, Cooking, Tents, 
Camp-grounds, Transports, Hospitals, and Camp-police. And of 
the benefits present and future secured by this intelligent prevision 
of an army's necessities and contingencies, no single illustration 
will serve better to teach us, than the fact of furnishing immediately, 
when wanted in a season of great peril in 1861, vaccine virus for 
thousands of men, at a time, when the regular Medical Bureau of 
the Army could supplj^ but a tenth part of what was needed, and 
that only after a /oW«t^^<'5 delay. What would have happened 
to the troops but for this timely succor it is not diflBcult to foresee, 
and it is saying little to assert that it would have been unsafe to 
place bodies of men upon transports, where, of necessity they must 
be crowded, with such a certainty of small-pox before them, and 
consequently great delays must have ensued in collecting a force 
at any distant point. 

The next step to prevention in the matter of disease or suffering, 
is that of relief applied to it when existing. Here the Commission 
found a field commensurate with that of the theatre of war. It 
estiiV)lished agencies in most of the principal cities and towns, and 
created depots of supplies — some stationary, some moveable at all 
the principal points occupied by the army. With every army corps 
there have gone one or more relief agents* who, anticipating the 
wants both extraordinary, as well as ordinary, of the troops, have 
never failed to supply them in the movements of their most pressing 
need. It would hardly be believed possible, were it not well 
authenticated, that, ^ov forty-eight hours after the battle of Antie- 
tam, thousands of wounded men, received all their supplies of 
medicine (opiates, stimulants, chloroform) diet, bedding and cloth- 
ing, chiefly from the Sanitary Commission. The regular Govern- 
ment supplies did not reach the field of action for two days. Need 
it be asked what would have become of the wounded but for this 



* E;ich preat division of the army has a Chief Sanitary Inspector, and a 
Superintendent of Field Relief, and when a force is stationary, a Lodge is estab- 
lished near its head-quarters. If the force is in motion supplies are issued 
from wagon trains, or from steamboats, of which the Commission has three. 



SANITARY COMMISSION. 413 

timely foresight and energy in transportation of hospital materials, 
or how great was the number of lives saved by this appreciation 
of the necessties of an impending battle 

''For want of timely aid, thousands die of medicable wounds." 
This sad truth so often repeating itself, and yet so constantly dis- 
regarded, the Sanitary Commission have never lost sight of, and 
hence, whether at Vicksburg, Murfreesboro', Chancellorsville, Chat- 
tanooga, Chickamauga, Fredericksburg, or Gettysburg, theirdepots 
have ever been prepared to distribute, even during the hottest of the 
fight, those grateful supplies whose value as life-saving agents de- 
pends so much upon their timely administration. Those only 
who have been in the habit of considering the difficulties attend- 
ant upon transporting the material of an army, with all the assist- 
ance even which official position can command, will be able to ap- 
preciate the energy manifested by the Commission, and the efficient 
use made of the little means placed at its control in transporting, 
by independent routes from the army, yet always keeping pace 
with it, even in an enemy's country, those supplies destined to 
relieve its direst necessities. But for this never-tiring energy our 
battle-fields would have had little mitigation to their horrors, and 
many a life now of use to the country must inevitably have been 
sacrificed to the insatiate monarch of war. 

In another way, and with a delicacy which silences all criticism, 
the Commission has rendered great service to the Medical Staff of 
the Army, by issuing a series of medical monographs upon subjects 
of the gravest importance in Military Surgery. Prepared as these 
have been by some of our most eminent Physicians and Surgeons, 
they carry with them a weight of authority which renders them 
most valuable contributions to the Medical literature of our coun- 
try, while especially addressed to our Surgeons on the field, who 
cannot carry libraries with them, obtain the assistance of consul- 
tations, nor devote much time to the periodical publications of 
their own profession, they furnish invaluable suggestions and in- 
struction in practical medicine. Some nineteen of these mono- 
graphs have already been published, and thousands of copies dis- 
tributed among our array Surgeons. 

35* 



414 APPENDIX. 

Another great work executed bj the Commission in obedience 
to that spirit of solicitude with which it has always watched 
over the soldier, has been the special Inspection of Hospitals. This 
dutj, committed to gentlemen of the highest standing in the 
Medical Profession, occupied some six months for its performance, 
and resulted in the recommendation of many forms of improve- 
ment in our present Hospital system. Over two hundred of these 
establishments were critically examined, and an inquiry of the 
most thorough character made into the condition of every one, 
and every thing in them. The report of these inspections would 
make a large volume, and add valuable information to the history 
of such institutions. All the suggestions combined in it have 
been laid before the proper authorities, and will, we doubt not, 
find their ultimate realization at an early day. 

Second only in importance to the system of general relief for 
the Army, while in the field, of which we have already spoken, 
has been that department of Special Relief, which, from its very 
inception, almost, the Commission has been called upon by daily 
admonitions of experience, to organize. This department deals 
with soldiers singly and disconnected from all military rule. It 
picks up stragglers from regiments who have lost their way — * 
sick and discharged soldiers going home without money — appli- 
cants for pensions, or waiting for back-pay — men who are hungry, 
and those who want a night's lodging, and dispenses to all, the 
most christian charity of relief suited to each particular want. 

* At points like Washington or Nashville, for example, there may be daily 
found scores or hundreds of men separated from their regiments and anxious to 
rejoin them, but unable to obtain transportation, and without legal title mean 
while to quarters or rations, or any kind of recognition or aid from any Gov- 
ernment officer within reach. Some are returning after a furlough, but find that 
their ngiment has moved. Their little stock of money has given out, and they 
must beg through the streets for aught ihat any official has the power to do for 
them. Others are sick, but no Hospital can admit them without a breach of 
regulations. Others are waiting to get their back pay, but there is some tech- 
nical defect in their papers for which they are not responsible, and they must 
wait a week for a letter to reach their regiment and be answered, before ihoy 
can draw a dollar from the Paymaster, and subsist as they can meanwhile. 

San. Comm. Doc. 69, p. 31. 



SANITARY COMMISSION. 415 

Such a department as this does every thing by turns. It furnishes 
a home to the homeless — shelter to the lost wanderer — food to the 
hungr}'- — medicine to the sick — helps men to get to their distant 
homes — sends some one with them whenever they are too sick to 
go alone, and plays the part of a Good Samaritan to all. 

The chief objects sought to be accomplished by this department 
are as follows, viz : 

First. — To supply the sick of newly arrived regiments such med- 
icines, food, and care as their officers are, under the circumstances, 
unable to give them. The men thus aided are chiefly those not 
sick enough to have a claim on a general hospital, but who never- 
theless need immediate care to prevent serious illness. 

Second. — To furnish suitable food, lodging, care, and assistance 
to men who are honorably discharged as unfit for further service, 
but who are often obliged to wait for several days before they 
obtain their papers and pay, or to sell their claims to speculators 
at a sacrifice. 

Third. — To communicate with distant regiments in behalf of 
men whose certificates of disability or descriptive lists on which 
to draw their pay prove to be defective — the invalid soldiers mean- 
time being cared for, and not exposed to the fatigue and risk of 
going in person to their regiments to have their papers corrected. 

Fourth.— "Yo act as the unpaid agent or attorney of soldiers who 
are too feeble or too utterly disabled to present their own claim at 
the Paymaster's office. 

Fifth. — To look into the condition of discharged and furloughed 
men who seem without means to pay the expense of going to their 
homes, and to furnish the necessary means where the man is found 
to be true and the need real. 

Sixth. — To secure to soldiers going home on sick leave railroad 
tickets at reduced rates, and through an agent at the railroad sta- 
tion to see that they are not robbed or imposed upon. 

Seventh. — To see that all men who are discharged and paid off 
do at once leave the city at which they receive their discharge, for 
their homes, or in cases where they have been induced by evil 
companions to remain behind, to endeavor to rescue them, and see 
them started homeward with through tickets. 

Eighth. — To make men going home discharged, or on sick leave, 
reasonably clean and comfortable before their departure. 

Ninth. — To be prepared to meet, at once, with food or other aid, 
such immediate necessities as arise when sick men arrive in large 
numbers from battle fields or distant hospitals. 



416 APPENDIX. 

In order the better to carry out the designs of this Department, 
Homes have been established in many of our principal cities, where 
assistance of every kind is afforded to soldiers. That these homes 
have, by their very successful and beneficent operation, proved the 
vfisdom of their founders, none will dispute, after reading the sub- 
joined report of their benefactions, brought up to the 1st of Octo- 
ber, 1863. 

Number of Night's 
Persons Lodging Meals Given. 

Received. Furuislied. 

"Home," Washington, D. C, T,287 26,533 65,621 

Lodges 2, 3, 4, 5, Washington, 23',590 184,995 

"Home," Cleveland, Ohio, 2,569 12,227 

Lodge, Memphis, Tenn 2,850 Uj'ZSO 

Lodge, Nashville, Tenn 4,821 11,909 

Home, Louisville, Ky 17,785 52,080 

at R. R. Sta. 

" " " ... ... 49,933 

Home, Cairo, 111 79,550 170,150 

Home, Cincinnati, Ohio, 40,017 10,000 

Lodge, Alexandria, Va 604 5,980 

Home, Boston, Mass 1,407 4,129 

Home for Nurses and Soldiers' wives and 

mothers, Washington, 1,583 3,640 

Home, for Nurses, Annapolis, Md 569 2,847 

Home, Chicago, 111 3,109 11,325 

Aggregate. 

Of Lodgings Furnished, 206,570. 

Of Meals given, 602,656. 

In addition to these many provisions for the sick and wounded 
soldiers, and the comfort of all classes of the military in their 
individual as well as their collective capacity, the Commission, 
consulting the feelings of the community at large, has caused to 
be maintained, for over a year past, a Hospital Directory, by 
means of which the friends of any soldier could ascertain whether 
or not he was in hospital. A man might be too sick, or too 
severely wounded to be able to write to his friends, and inform 
them of his condition. The Directory comes at once to their aid, 
and supplies them with the needed information. Although in one 
sense this can not be considered a Sanitary measure, having 
nothing to do with the protection of health, yet the very satis- 
factory manner in which the undertaking has flourished, and the 



SANITARY COMMISSION. 417 

interest manifested in it by all classes, shows plainly enough that 
it has subserved a want of the most universal character. And 
since the Commission are only the Trustees of the people for the 
employment of a large fund, intended to benefit the Army, they 
have felt that, in whatever way that fund could be applied so as 
to reach the soldier even remotely, it was still but carrying out 
the intentions of the people to direct it in such way. 

The Directory Books have been kept in four places, viz : Wash- 
ington, New York, Philadelphia and Louisville, and the following 
table illustrating the number of recorded names will show how 
widely extended must be the circle of people interested in knowing 
the whereabouts and condition of their several relatives or friends 
in the Army. 

Names. 

Washington Office to Oct. 1st, 1863, contained 169,007 

New York " " " " 27,320 

Philadelphia " '•' " " 24,513 

Louisville " " " '' 186,433 

407,273 

These reports are corrected daily — they give the name, regiment, 
company — and nature of disease or wound, of every man admitted 
into a General Hospital, and go on further to tell the names of 
those dying, or discharged, and if so, what ultimate disposition 
has been made of them, or in other words, whether they have 
rejoined their regiments, or been discharged for permanent dis- 
ability. 

Besides all this regularly appointed work which the Commis- 
sion, as the Trustee of a great charitable fund, is daily carrying 
on, there are extra calls constantly being made upon it to meet 
the wants of sudden emergencies. These calls, generally un-an- 
ticipated, are always pressing in their nature, and must be 
attended to at once. They come like a thief in the night, or the 
sound of a fire-bell, to startle the country, aud appall us by the 
sufferings they threaten. Not to be able to meet and master them 
in their very cradle would be to stand by, and see suffering go 
unrelieved by those who do not themselves share the danger. But 
relief, unless methodized, is good only for a day. It can not be 



418 



APPENDIX. 



depended upon for a long siege, and a combination of wants. It 
becomes simply an aggravation to those in whom its ephemeral 
appearance has created hope and expectation. Fortunately, the 
expansive character of a system, like that adopted by the Com- 
mission, and the assurance of hearty support from the loyal 
public behind, enables it to do all that is ever required of it, and 
a Utile more. It always has a margin to its relief-work wide 
enough to embrace something else not yet classified in the multi- 
farious category of its achievements. Thus every flag-of-truce 
boat that has ascended the James River for the reception of 
exchanged prisoners, has carried such stores of food and medicine 
as were most indispensable to men in the debilitated and starved 
condition of those who have been confined in Confederate prisons. 
And, in addition to this itinerant benefaction, it sent from 
November 17th, to December 3d, a space of fifteen days, $28,000 
worth of supplies to Richmond for the use of our imprisoned 
soldiers there. Such, without a more special enumeration of 
hundreds of particular instances which will never figure in reports 
because of their lesser importance, has been the course of Christian 
philanthropy, pursued by the Commission in its generous, yet 
economic distribution of the bounties which the patriotism of the 
nation has poured into its Treasury. And perhaps the happiest 
feature in this connection, and that which most symbolizes the 
unity and harmony of action everywhere actuating the country, 
is the fact, that all classes, from the poorest of the poor, to the 
richest of the rich, have alike contributed to its resources. A nd 
if we may believe that the offerings of the poor, made in a spirit 
of self-sacrifice and true charity, have a double blessing accorded 
them, we can entertain no doubt that the labors of the Commis- 
sion, so signally favored in the past, will still receive the invisible, 
yet everywhere revealed signs of Divine approbation. 

The following ''Roll of Honor" will tell for itself, and in 
tones louder than any human emphasis can give it, the interest 
which the loyal American people, in whatever lands living, and 
however far from home, feel in their Sanitary Commission. 



SANITARY COMMISSION. 419 



Contributions received by the Treasurer of the Commission from 
June, 1861, to December Ifh, 1863. 

From Maine, $ \1,120 33 

" New Hampshire, 1,701 44 

'' Vermont, 2,035 15 

" Massachusetts, 48,548 86 

" Connecticut, 5,181 35 

'• Rhode Island, 8,068 30 

" New England, (States not discriminated, ) 6,683 15 

" New York, 160,042 58 

" New Jersey, 3,170 88 

'' Pennsylvania 11,699 18 

" Delaware, 765 00 

" Maryland, 1,733 00 

'' Washington, D. C 2,333 08 

'• Ohio, '. 2,700 00 

" Michigan, 578 00 

*' Illinois, 546 25 

" Kentucky, 6,166 45 

" Indiana, 500 00 

•' Minnesota, 45 00 

" Nevada Territory, 54,144 75 

" California, -. 526,909 61 

" Oregon, 26,450 78 

" Washington Territorj^, 7,258 97 

" Idaho, 2,110 46 

" Van-Couver's and San Juan Islands, 2,552 68 

" Honolulu, 4,085 00 

" Santiago de Chili, 3,688 84 

" Peru, 2,002 00 

" Newfoundland, 150 00 

" Canada, 439 48 

" England and Scotland, 1,150 00 

" France, 2,750 00 

" Turkey, 50 00 

" China, 2,303 93 

" Cuba, 23 00 

" Unknown Sources, 3,192 88 

Total, $919,580 98 

This does not include the various amounts raised by Branches 
of the Commission for their own use, and expended in the pur- 
chase of Hospital stores, clothing^ &c., &c. No enumeration of the 
supplies furnished by thousands of sewing circles, churches and 
individuals to these branches is at present possible, and outside of 
their contributions to its Central Treasury. Could this sum be 
ascertained, it would probably be found reaching to millions of 
dollars. 



420 APPENDIX. 

That an institution of this kind — so universal in its benefactions, 
and so prolific in resources, should require for its maintenance a 
constant stream of contributions, none can wonder who have fol- 
lowed the foregoing brief outline of its labors. It has become so 
habitual too, to look to the Sanitary Commission as a sort of 
tutelar saint who is always ready for any call however great or 
urgent, that the public mind has certainly relieved itself of the 
burthen of much uneasiness by a confidence in its almost omnipo- 
tent character. Knowing that through its hundreds of agents it 
is omnipresent in the fields of danger — and experience having 
shown its capacity to meet every necessity of every occasion, there 
is reason to fear lest public sympathy with it, may lose that earnest, 
vivifying character, which has heretofore been so manifest, and 
dwindle into a feeling of personal indifference to the work ahead, 
because of the very successful manner in which the Commission 
has acquitted itself. But when the following monthly exhibit of 
its expenditures* is read, and a look taken at the map of our re- 
stored possessions, it will be seen that the work of relief now em- 
bracing so large a field, and upon which, both Government and 
Army have learned to depend, cannot be retrenched, but on the 
contrary, must go on increasing. And yet, alarming as is the 
statement, the fact is nevertheless true, that the Commission at 
present is gnawing its treasury down to the very bone, and unless 
assistance of the most ample kind soon reaches it, must suspend 
its operations. It is so painful to contemplate a possibility of this 
kind, even in imagination, that one does not like to dwell upon 

* The disbursements of the Central Treasury for the eight months ending 
December 1st, 1863, were as follows: 

April, $29,142.57 

May, 36,31 5.09 

June, 54,623.21 

July, 92,020.86 

August, 40,507.07 

September 28,470.35 

October, 30,191.81 

November 49,845.87 

$361,116.83 
Making an average of over $45,000 a month ! 



SANITARY COMMISSION. 421 

it long enough to conjecture what, and how disastrous to the 
courage and moral tone of our army, would be its consequences. 
It is asserting little to say that the consciousness of an institution 
like ihe Sanitary Commission, is an element of strength to the 
soldier, to the officer, and to the Government. It is the guardian 
and protector of the former — the counsel and assistant of the 
latter. It inspires the soldier with courage, because he knows 
from experience, that he can depend upon its strong arm, as an 
ever present help in sickness — suffering or poverty — that he never 
appeals to it in vain, and never suffers injustice at his hands — but 
that like a kind, yet stern guardian, it acts in the place of parents, 
as it also does by their authority, implied through its creation and 
maintenance by them . 

When it is remembered too that the Commission has labored in 
the most catholic spirit towards all soldiers, from whatever region, 
or nationality coming, looking only to the uniform as the guar- 
antee of their devotion to the one cause of our common country, 
and insisting upon ignoring that disposition so common at the 
outbreak of the war; but now, and mainly through its efforts, 
happily abandoned, of discriminating in the distribution of sup- 
plies, between the soldiers of different States — a custom at once 
inhuman and mischievous in its tendency, and calculated to destroy 
the national character of our army, by surrounding even the com- 
forts for the sick and wounded, with certain conditions and limi- 
tations; when these things are remembered in connection with 
the direct aid it affords the Government, through the better health 
of the troops it secures — the decreased mortality in hospitals, and 
after battles, which its ready help and abundant provisions and 
comforts for the sick insures, thereby keeping our army up to a 
higher standard of efficiency than it could otherwise possibly be — 
surely, when those things are called to mind, and the record of 
past good work proves it all by inexorable statistics, can there be 
any reason why the people should not permanently adopt it as an 
offspring of their own — nurse it in the depths of their keenest 
sympathies — and place it in the front rank of those instrumental- 
ities which, under God's good grace, and in the fulness of His time, 
will restore us our Union — extinguish the last ember of sedition, 

36 



422 



APPENDIX 



and perpetuate, as a new order of things among the nations, the 
ability of a Republic to sustain its integrity against the most vio- 
lent and disruptive of internal commotions. 

The wisdom exhibited by the Executive Committee in their 
management of the delicate trust confided to their hands, has 
elicited the admiration of all who have paused to reflect upon the 
perplexities which ever surround, and hamper, undertakings of so 
vast, and various a character. Without any precedents whatever 
to guide them— for the labors of the British Sanitary Com- 
mission to the East, were infantile when compared with our own— 
and starting with ill-concealed apprehensions on the part of some 
of our highest executive officers, lest the Commission should be 
managed in the interests alone of sentimental philosophy, they 
have shown an ability to grapple with emergencies, and a skill 
commensurate with the difficulties of every problem, whether 
sanitary or social, together with a fertility of resource such, as has 
not been surpassed by any department of the Government. In- 
deed, some of the most valuable suggestions upon subjects only 
collaterally related to Sanitary science, but all tending to increase 
the efficiency of the Army, and which have commanded the atten- 
tion of the War Department, are emanations from this many- 
headed and far-sighted Commission. Could all be known of the 
good work done through pen and speech, and personal persuasion 
by the various members of the Executive Committee who have met 
daily, and almost nightly, too, in addition, for the past two and 
a half years, it would present a record of statesmen-like discus- 
sions— liir-sighted anticipations of coming events— preparations 
for circumstances undreamed of by the masses— inquisitions into 
subjects of the largest import to the future well-being of our 
country, the whole tempered by a spirit o{ broad and liberal 
concession to the law of public opinion while marching in advance 
of it— such, as could only flourish in the atmosphere of pure 
and un-sectarian patriots. And where all have labored with equal 
zeal, and lent their best efi^orts to the common cause, deeming 
no sacrifice of time or personal comfort too great to him whose 
country is travailing in the throes of civil convulsion, it would be 
inviduous to mention names, or call attention to persons already 



SANITARY COMMISSION. 423 

filling so large a space in the grateful remembrance of their 
countrymen. With an ever-present sense of duty well performed, 
and a consciousness of the rectitude of purpose animating them, 
they can point to the thousand happy homes made happier for 
their labors, and the ten thousand lives saved to the Republic in 
the day of her direst necessity. It is a beautiful thing to blend 
the virtues of the patriot, with the wisdom of the statesman, and 
the graces of a Christian philanthropy, but far more beautiful still 
to lay them upon the altar of one's country in humility and faith, 
believing that all manner of invisible agencies are working in 
harmony with the truthful and earnest laborer, and bringing 
Heaven nearer to him according as he follows its golden intuitions. 
For, in the noble imagery of Bacon, ''certainly, it is Heaven upon 
earth to have a man's mind move in charity, rest in Providence, 
and turn upon the poles of truth." 



THE END. 



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